


(everywhere you look) there's a face of somebody who needs you

by fannyann



Series: full house au [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Original Character Death(s), Past Character Death, allusions to car accidents, brief alcohol consumption, mentions of depression in response to death and grieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:59:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyann/pseuds/fannyann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After it happens Harry disappears for nearly three months. He comes home to a worried family, an angry Liam, and Niall asking for a favor. He postpones his album and moves into Liam's house with Niall to help raise his two kids. He expects for things to be hard and for his feelings to be a bit all over the place, all things considered, but he never expects to fall in love -- especially not with Liam. </p>
<p>or a very loosely based full house au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(everywhere you look) there's a face of somebody who needs you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Maika](parchedforpaynis.tumblr.com) and [chasinthepayne](chasinthepayne.tumblr.com) for encouraging me throughout this whole thing and fixing all my late night typos from the beginning. Thank you to [pepperminttii](http://pepperminttii.tumblr.com/) for giving me such a lovely Harry-esque pun to use and to [Oddny](http://hazelgracelancaster.tumblr.com/) for helping me come up with a job for Niall and a name for Daisy and Jess for giving me the name for my favorite character of all, Kit. 
> 
> Most of all thank you to [Diana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/andwhatyousaid/pseuds/andwhatyousaid) for being a constant light in my life and helping beta this fic for me; to [Saskia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee) for being the most helpful bean and serving as my kidpicker and making Daisy and Kit that much more authentic children; and finally to [Maggie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima) for britpicking this at such short notice.
> 
> As much as I would love for this world to exist, this is entirely a product of my own head and not actually reflective of the world we live in. It is the most self indulgent thing that I have -- and probably ever will -- write; it literally has all three of my favorite tropes in one: misunderstandings, famous/non-famous and kidfic but I do hope you can enjoy it at least half as much as I do!

Harry wakes up in a cold sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, body sore, the images of his dream still vivid in his mind. He kicks his feet out from under the duvet, frustrated, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes to stave off the tears. It's been three months, but he still has the occasional nightmare about Addie's accident — her last words to him ringing in his ears like she’s just said them: _Have a great show, H. Can't wait to see you when you get home!_

He can still make out the warmth in her voice and the fondness in the way she always said _H_ like the letter was extra special, made just for him. He wants to curl back up and go to sleep — wake up three months earlier before his mum called him in tears with the news. He rolls over onto his stomach, buries his head in his pillow to muffle his groan, and counts to ten before getting out of bed. On his way to the bathroom he grabs his jeans from last night and the shirt lying on his bedside table from before he left; he brings the shirt to his nose and takes a sniff, deciding that it only smells slightly stale and that it’ll do for lying around the house all day.

He sets his clothes on the counter and stands in front of the mirror for a long while examining the bags under his eyes and the way his lips turn down in a frown, face tight like it never was before all this. He really needs to call his mum back, tell her that he’s fine — that he made it back home okay and that he’ll come by for tea when he gets the chance. He steps into the shower and lets the water wash away the sweat, the tears and what feels like three months of pent up guilt that’s finally catching up to him now that he’s back home. He hasn’t seen anyone in two and a half months, and he hasn’t spoken to anyone in nearly two, having begged off two weeks after Addie’s funeral — too sad to sit still, too selfish to stay in London. 

He spent two and a half weeks in Prague, grieving in the midst of so much beauty, and then he jetted off to the Swiss Alps where he met a girl who reminded him of Addie; there, he spent a month learning how to ski, only busting his chin up two times. After, he went on to America, spent a week in Tennessee, finally visited Graceland. He flew out to L.A. for three weeks where he finally began to feel less like a walking shell of a man and more like an actual human being ready to face the world, his family and friends, the reality of his life again. 

He stays in the shower until the water runs cold, wraps a towel around his waist, and clears the fog from the mirror to look at the way his hair falls in little tufts around his ears until he pushes it back out of his face, wondering what his mum would say if she knew how long he’d let it get in the last three months. 

He’s drawn out of his reverie by his phone buzzing from his bedside table; he slips on a fresh pair of pants and a sense of dread passes over him, knowing who it is without looking. He doesn’t pick up. Instead he stays in the bathroom messing around with the hole in his jeans, fiddling with his necklaces and rings, just letting it ring. He examines himself in the mirror one last time, feeling refreshed and as ready to face the world London has to offer as he’ll ever be. He finally goes to check his phone; just as he suspected, he has one missed call and a new voicemail from Jude: _Ring me immediately. I know you’re back in London. Weren’t as sneaky coming back in last night as you usually are. We have to talk about getting back in the studio. You’re a month off track._

Her voice is clipped, like she’s holding back months of pent up fury, and she probably is, but Harry knows it’s mostly because she’s got bigger people breathing down her neck and he’s not surprised at all that he gets a text a moment later that reads: _Hope your little sabbatical helped you work through things. Glad you made it back safe xx_

He smiles about the fact that he has a team that cares about him so much and shoots off : _You think I really slipped up and got seen?? Come on Jude you know me better than that._

He gets a response almost immediately as though she’d been waiting around for his reply: _Of course. Always like you to let yourself be known through blurry fan photos in the middle of the night instead of giving me a call._

Harry thinks he’s in the clear, but then she sends: _Can’t ignore the album forever. I’ll buy you some time but we have to talk about it soon._

Harry flops back against the bed, letting his phone fall out of his hand, and breathes in deep. He knows he can’t keep putting it off but he’s just not in the mood to write or sing or share any of the things he has written with anyone else. He sighs, resigned, and grabs his phone to send off one last text: _Get me two more months. I’ll buy you the biggest french croissant in the entire world if you do. I just need a couple more months before I start it all up again._

Later, he’s in the kitchen washing up from lunch when he gets a text from Jude: _You owe me big time Styles. Don’t be surprised when your return hits the papers._

He knows that’s code for ‘we have to release a statement,’ but he doesn’t really care when he’s just earned himself two more months before having to return to work again. He finishes the washing up and then calls his mum; she answers with so much warmth and happiness in her voice that Harry can’t help the guilt that washes over him — knows he should have at least talked to his family while he was gone — sent more than a few postcards telling them he was alright, but all his worry is washed away when she starts talking. 

She asks him about Prague and the Alps, laughs when he tells her Graceland was everything he imagined it to be and more. Thankfully, she doesn’t once mention that his response to the death of a loved one was to up and leave the country without a moment’s notice and Harry’s heart swells at the thoughtfulness. She invites him round for Sunday roast and tells him she won’t accept anything but a “yes” and warns him that Gemma might not be as receptive to his apology, so to not be surprised if she gives him the cold shoulder tomorrow. After a beat his mum says: “I love you, Harry. Glad you made it home safe.” 

The guilt that’s flooded over him since he’s been back is just a dull ache at the back of his mind now, he feels warm and calm at the sincerity of his mum’s words and can’t help but feel like things will be alright. Right as he’s about to hang up the phone though, she says, voice suddenly tired, more worn, “You should really go see Liam.” 

His heart drops and he should have seen this coming, knew he couldn’t escape this conversation all together — his mum’s never been one to let him get away with avoiding his problems entirely. He coughs, feels like his tongue is three sizes too big and swallows roughly, trying to gain some sort of composure. “Yeah, mum. I’ll — yeah. Okay.” 

She clucks her tongue like she already knows he won’t, and then says, “It was nice hearing from you. See you tomorrow.”

He hangs up the phone and rests his elbows on his knees, pressing the phone to his lips in thought. He hasn’t seen Liam since the funeral, hasn’t talked or texted, didn’t even send a postcard — doesn’t really know how to be around him without seeing Addie’s smile whenever he crinkles his nose in the way that always made her laugh, or her eyes in his kids’ faces — and he knows it’s selfish — knows Liam’s going through the same thing, worse even, but he’s finally gotten to a point where he feels happy again and he doesn’t know what effect seeing Liam will have on him. 

His phone buzzes against his mouth, startling him out of his thoughts; he contemplates not answering, but thinks better of it, resigning himself to being better about answering his phone now that he’s home. He’s greeted on the other end by Niall’s boisterous laugh. “Fucking hell Harry. Took you long enough to answer one of my calls. What's it been — three months?” 

Harry leans back against the sofa, humming his dissent. “Mmm, not as such. More like two. I called you from the Alps to tell you about that weird Irish bloke I met.” 

Niall laughs louder, and though they’re not in the same room, Harry feels like it’s vibrating through his chest, warming him from the inside out. 

“How could I forget that thrilling conversation? You’d think your return from a spontaneous vacation would warrant a call. But hey, at least you thought of me once.” 

Niall laughs around his words, but behind that Harry can make out the way he’s holding back — the way he’s not calling him a dickhead for bailing on all his friends when they all lost someone close to them. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and says, defeated, “I’m sorry I didn’t call more. Sorry that I left.” 

“I don’t want your apology, Harry. I get it — she was your best friend. But I do need your help.” 

A rush of dread washes over him and he’s wary to continue this conversation, saying nervously, “What do you need?” 

Niall’s voice goes awfully cheery as if he’s telling a child they’re going to the park when they’re really going to the dentist as he says, “Oh, nothing major. Just for you to move into Liam’s with me — help him raise the kids for a bit.” 

Harry sits up straight, feeling clammy all over. He was half-expecting it to be about Liam, but never in his wildest imagination expected a request like that. He looks for the right words to say, stuttering out, “I don’t. Niall. That’s not — I can’t.” 

Niall clucks his tongue and Harry can practically hear the way he’s rolling his eyes. “Wasn’t really giving you the option. Promised Karen I’d help Liam out— promised Anne I’d keep an eye on you once you got back, make sure you didn’t go off the grid again — and now that you’re back, seems like you moving in would just be killing two birds with one stone.” 

He sounds proud, like he’s got it all figured out. Then he says, just as casually, “Besides I just finished packing up my stuff and I’m already on my way over to help you do yours.” 

*

Niall gets there fifteen minutes later and greets Harry at the door with a hug so vigorous he nearly knocks him on his arse. They stumble backward into the foyer before Niall straightens up, giving Harry a quick once over. “You look like shit, man.” 

Harry pushes his shoulder lightly. “Heeyyyy. That’s no way to greet someone you haven’t seen in months.” 

Niall pushes past him with a shake of his head, making his way towards Harry’s bedroom and calls back, “What would I be without my honesty?”

It doesn’t take them long to pack up his belongings, and while they do Niall fills him in on what life’s been like in London without him, tells him that the world’s been playing their very own game of _Where in the world is Harry Styles?_ for the past two months.

“Your fans are a right pain in the arse, you know that? Started calling in to my show a month in, asking if I’d heard from you. Wouldn’t accept the fact that I didn’t know or listen to Zayn tell them that they couldn’t keep wasting air time to quiz me on you.” 

He laughs at the way Harry’s jaw has gone a little slack in surprise, and then says, “Bet my ratings have been up though — everyone probably listening with bated breath to hear if I’d mention you.” 

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and grimaces. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

Niall shrugs. “It’s whatever. At least now they can stop bothering me about it. It’s all over the internet that you’re back. Everyone knows.” 

Harry smiles, teasing. “What? You’ve been checking update accounts for my whereabouts?” 

Niall crinkles his forehead in confusion, knitting his eyebrows together for a second before saying slowly, “No, your people released a statement. Said you’d been taking some time after —” He pauses, waves his hand in the air, not wanting to say it, knowing Harry will get it anyway, and finishes with: “Said you’re back now and that you’re ready to focus on your music again. Thought you’d have known.” 

Harry knew Jude warned him about a statement; he just didn’t realise that it’d come so soon or that it’d come attached with hinting at a new album. Though, he shouldn’t be surprised. His team wouldn’t have just flat out said that he’s postponing the album — especially since there’s never been an official announcement that one was in the works, but he does have a track record. 

Harry shakes his head, sighing. “I was supposed to start writing for the album last month, start in the studio this week.” 

Niall lets out a low whistle. “And I assume none of that got done?”

Harry laughs. “Nope, not at all. Wrote a few disjointed verses, but they were all fucking depressing.” 

Niall looks thoughtful, almost sad. “Hmm, Liam’s been the same way. Hasn’t worked with anyone since it happened. Says he can’t write anything that isn’t ridiculously sad at the moment.” 

Harry’s stomach twists uncomfortably; he hasn’t really thought about how this would affect Liam’s job, which he really should have. This is the first time he’s been directly hit by the reality that he’s not the only one going through this — he lost a best friend, but Liam lost a wife. It takes Harry until they finish loading the clothes into his luggage before he finally gets the nerve to ask the question he’s been needing to all along. “How is he? How is Liam?”

Niall’s eyes flash with something fierce, then they settle and he says, “Good as could be expected. Better than he was a month ago. Karen moved in to help him with the kids because at first he just —” Niall’s eyes are a little unfocused and his voice goes tight. He clears his throat and shakes his head, starting up again, “He wasn’t good, Harry. But he’s better now. Karen started to drive him mad there, at the end. He’d call me and tell me how whenever she thought he wasn’t looking she’d get all weepy, mumbling to herself how she hated seeing him like this. You know Karen.” 

Harry laughs quietly because he knows just what Niall’s saying, and then Niall finishes, “Which is why we’re moving in. He needs to be able to live without his mum crying over his every move, but he also needs help with the kids. Kit’s a handful.” 

Harry smiles, remembering the way Addie would call him on Sunday nights to tell him all about how the terrible twos were more of a frame of mind than an age range. 

They load his stuff into the boot of his car, and Harry finally has to ask, can’t go over there without knowing: “Niall, are you sure Liam’s alright with this? Like, he knows I’m coming, right?”

Niall shuts the boot of Harry’s car and considers him for a moment. “Liam’s not going to admit he needs help — but he needs this.” 

Harry knows that much to be true, but that doesn’t answer his question in the slightest — doesn’t let him know if he’s welcome in Liam’s home. “That’s not — I know that. But is he going to be okay with _me_ helping him out? I did just abandon him in his time of need after all.” 

Niall chews on his lip, mulling over Harry’s words. He settles on, “Well he didn’t object when I told him the plan, so I guess we’ll find out when we get there.” 

* 

Liam may not have objected, but Harry’s definitely had warmer welcomes than the one he’s met with upon their arrival. They set their bags down by the door, Niall sets his keys on the hook on the wall, and then a little ball of joy with a mop of wild brown hair rushes over and hugs Harry’s leg, looking up at him with bright eyes, nearly shouting, “Harry!” 

He leans down to pick her up, twirls her around as she erupts in a fit of giggles and presses a kiss to her forehead, affecting her tone as he says, “Kit!” 

Niall takes her from his arms at that moment, pulling a face and saying in mock-hurt, “Kit Kat! I thought I was your favourite? 

Niall tickles her sides and she dissolves into squeals of laughter, and that’s when Harry notices Liam out the corner of his eye, standing at the edge of the stairs with Daisy on his hip. He looks better than Harry imagined; he’s got bags under his eyes that look like they haven’t left since the funeral, but other than that he’s glowing a bit, mouth turned up in a smile at the sight of Niall and Kit. The moment doesn’t last, though — he peels his eyes away from Niall tickling Kit and finally makes eye contact with Harry. His lips go tight around the edges and he says, curtly, “Nice to see you, Harry. Glad you’re back.” 

He turns on his heel, heads for the kitchen, saying over his shoulder as he goes,“Could’ve called, y’know?”

His voice is forced casual, biting even. Harry turns back to Niall, who’s stopped tickling Kit now, looking at him sideways, saying irritatedly, “Well that could have gone better.” 

Niall sets Kit down and pushes her along a bit. “Go check on your Daddy, he might need a hug.” 

He watches as she runs away, turns back to Harry with a look of mild annoyance, picking up his bags and heading for the stairs, motioning for Harry to follow and says, “Yeah, and it could’ve gone a lot worse, too.” 

*

Niall calls dibs on the guestroom with its own bathroom, says its only fair since this was his idea.  
Harry grumbles to himself about getting the room furthest away from the bathroom and right next to the nursery, but he’s careful to not let his disappointment show, figuring that’s no way to remain in Niall’s good graces and definitely not the way to win Liam back. Niall has the advantage of picking the room Karen stayed in, so its bed is made with freshly washed sheets and there’s not a speck of dirt in sight; Harry’s room, on the other hand, has such a thick layer of dust on every surface that Harry suspects no one’s stepped foot in it since they first moved in. 

They spend the rest of the evening dusting Harry’s room. No matter how much Niall insists that Liam’s fine with him being there, Liam only speaks to Harry twice: once to point him in the direction of clean sheets, and again to tell him that he ordered pizza that should be here soon, which doesn’t even really count since it was only Liam calling up the stairs at him and Niall both. 

Throughout dinner Liam pointedly ignores Harry, and asks Niall if he’ll help put Daisy and Kit to bed when they’re done. Then Liam looks at Harry one last time with shrewd, hurt eyes before turning to Niall and saying, “There’s an extra baby monitor in the cupboard under the stairs for the other guest room.” 

He stands to pick Daisy up and his whole demeanor changes, his eyes go soft and his face brightens. He lifts her up above his head before bringing her forward to blow a raspberry against her stomach and she makes a sound that’s somewhere between a giggle and a yawn. “Time for bed, baby girl,” Liam says. 

He looks over to where Kit’s sitting next to Harry and smiles at her slowly, like he’s waiting for something in particular. His eyes light up because Kit doesn’t let him down — she throws her hands up in defeat saying, “Not me too, Daddy!” 

Liam hoists Daisy up further on his hip and tilts his head to the side, looking at Kit like she’s the most adorable thing in the world, and says, stern but soft, “You too, Kit.” 

Her lips turn down in a frown and she bats her eyes at Liam, something Harry can imagine she always does, and Harry doesn’t know how Liam’s capable of saying no to that face. Harry’s entire will crumbles at the sight of it and all he wants to do is tell Liam to let her stay up longer, but Niall catches his eye and shakes his head discreetly, mouthing the word ‘no,’ so Harry shuts his mouth and just watches the scene unfold in amazement as Liam stands firm against her pout. 

Laughing, Liam says her name one more time — as though this is a daily routine. 

She finally concedes, climbing down from her chair, walking slowly with her arms hung loosely at her side in defeat, saying, “Fine. But there’s only —”

She stops and her face twists in thought and she looks at her fingers, attempting to count; she arranges her fingers in several different combinations of numbers before giving up, looking up at Liam, frustrated. “Some months till my birthday! And _mummy said_ I can stay up one Peppa Pig episode later when I turnded four!” 

There’s a brief moment where Liam’s face falls and his body goes tense. Niall reaches out from where he’s still seated and touches Liam’s hip reassuringly. A beat later, Liam’s smiling warmly at her, eyes crinkling at how proud she looks. “That she did, baba. But you still have _six_ months till that happens, so it’s bedtime for now.” 

She looks back down at her fingers, thinking, and holds out six fingers, asking, “This many?”

Niall gets up and swoops down to pick her up and kisses her on the cheek. “Right on the money Kit Kat! How’d you get so smart?” 

He heads for the stairs after Liam and Harry hears Kit say as they go, “Daddy’s been teaching me numbers!” 

Harry sits at the table for a long moment feeling defeated, staring at the uneaten pizza left in the boxes, the cut up pieces Kit pushed around on her plate and the mashed vegetables Liam was trying to feed Daisy splattered all around her high-chair. He figures if Liam won’t speak to him, he can at least show him that he’s here to help by being a bit useful. He transfers the remaining slices of pizza into one box and then stares at the inside of Liam’s fully stocked fridge in horror — there’s absolutely no space for a pizza box; he gives up on trying to make space for it and haphazardly shoves it diagonally so that it’s crammed between a milk carton and a jug of orange juice. 

He rummages through the cupboards underneath the sink looking for a bottle of Cif, and ends up settling on just wetting a dishcloth to wipe down the high-chair. After, he does the washing up: the plates from dinner and what looks like three meals’ worth of cereal bowls. He’s joined by Niall just as he places the last plate in the dishwasher. 

Niall smiles widely and claps Harry on the back. “Thanks for washing up! Told Liam I’d do it.” 

Harry shrugs, turning to face Niall. “The least I could do, really.” 

Niall runs his hands through his hair, wrinkling his nose at the crease between Harry’s eyes. “He’ll come around eventually.” 

Harry’s shoulders slump and he shakes his head in disbelief. “I dunno, Niall. Still looks pretty pissed.” 

Niall shrugs and laughs a bit. “Yeah, but you know Liam. Always a bit passive-aggressive now and then. Better this than him losing his temper and telling you how he really feels.” 

Niall says it so matter-of-factly that Harry can’t help but ask as he leans against the counter and touches his lips nervously. “And how does he really feel?” 

Niall rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “Dunno. I’m not Liam. I will tell you this, though: he’s not gonna admit it, but he’s happy you’re here.” 

Harry doesn’t really believe him, but Niall’s never been one to lie directly to his face, so for the first time since Harry got to Liam’s, he feels a bit hopeful — like maybe this won’t be miserable after all. 

*

It takes him ages to fall asleep that night. He can’t get comfortable. All he can think about is Liam downstairs, potentially seething in fury. Harry eventually falls asleep to the thought of Liam punching him in the face and shouting at him to get the hell out while Niall and the girls laugh at his pain. 

The thought haunts his dreams; he wakes up feeling flushed and tiptoes down the hall to have a cold shower in an attempt to cool down. He makes sure to dress in his cleanest clothes — not wanting to give Gemma any more reason for teasing — and slips out of the house after leaving a note on the fridge that he’s at his mum’s if they need him. 

He gets to his mum’s around half past one and is greeted with a hug to rival any he’s ever received. Anne takes his face between her hands, looking a bit weepy. “My baby, you look so good.” Her laugh is a bit watery as she fusses with the hair around his ears. “Your hair’s gettin’ a bit long — I like it.” 

She lets him go and Robin hugs him firmly. “Good to have you back in town. It’s been too long.” 

He doesn’t say it unkindly or even a bit pointedly, just stating the facts, but Harry’s heart still twists uncomfortably at the worry he must have caused everyone. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before catching sight of Gemma, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, face closed off. 

Harry smiles at her and raises his eyebrow.“Ah, Gem, don’t be like that.” 

She smiles at him, uncrosses her arms, and walks toward him slowly; Harry’s ready for another hug but what he gets is Gemma swatting at his chest with as much force as she can muster. “You fuckin’ dickhead!” 

She dissolves into a fit of laughter at the way Harry’s face turns in shock, and then she finally wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight, whispering against his neck, “Glad to see you.” 

She pulls back and says with a haughty look on her face, a twinkle in her eyes, “I got you some pretty cool gifts for Christmas and your birthday. But I don’t really think two and a half months and three postcards really warrants ‘em, so.” 

She shrugs her shoulders and looks at Harry as if daring him to protest, but he knows not to, so he just smiles back and says, “Fair enough.” 

*

Harry spends the day asking everyone to fill him in on what they’ve been up to since he’s been gone. Robin informs him that they’re thinking of getting a new cat, Anne mentions that she’s been teaching herself how to knit, and Gemma laughs at that, tells Anne that she can’t turn into a grandma before the two of them have kids. 

It’s nice to be back at home— where no matter what or how long he’s been gone he always feels welcome, where there’s no obligation to hash out the details of his life. They don’t treat him any differently, not even today when they really ought to; they have every right to grill him about leaving, but they don’t. Anne frets over Harry all day — telling him he hasn’t been eating enough, pushing snack after snack in front of him no matter how much he insists he won’t have an appetite left if he keeps eating and shoots him sidelong glances the entire time he watches her cook. Other than that, though, no one makes any further mention of his sudden disappearance, not even as much to ask how all the places he went were. 

At dinner, Gemma tells him about this fling she had, how it all went arse over tits when he found out she was related to The Harry Styles. “He seemed to be more interested in what kind of freebies came along with that sort of familial bond than he was in me.” 

Anne purses her lips and Harry apologises for it, but Gemma just shakes her head. “Not your fault, really. Bit of a snooze anyway, saved me the time, to be honest.” 

“Where’d you meet a guy like that, anyway?” 

Gemma goes tense and Anne fidgets with her napkin. Robin looks between the two of them just as confused as Harry until Gemma clears her throat and says, as casual as can be, “Oh, I - um — I went by to see Liam at the studio once while you were gone — thought I’d offer to help out with the kids for a bit. He wasn’t there, but Louis was and so was the guy, Ashton, and it just, y’know how things work, Harry.” 

Harry’s more concerned with the fact that Anne and Gemma think they have to hide the fact that they’ve seen Liam from him than he is with the idea of Gemma hooking up with some shitty musician. He looks between his mum and his sister for a long moment before settling on the right words to say. “You don’t have to pretend you haven’t seen him just because I left the country since I couldn’t deal with everything.” 

Anne’s eyes look like they’re going to spill over any moment and Gemma looks sadder than Harry’s ever seen. 

“I’m fine now. Please don’t,” he says, trying to keep the bit of desperation he’s feeling at bay. “Don’t do the thing where you worry about me. I’m _fine_. I needed to get my head in order after it happened and now I’m — well I’m not like — it still hurts, and I still want to pick up the phone and tell her that I finally visited Graceland and that she should have been there because she loved Elvis more — but I’m fine, really.” 

Anne’s crying now. Robin hands her a napkin to wipe away her tears, and Gemma looks like she wants to tell a stupid joke just to make Harry laugh, but can’t muster anything funny with how sad she feels. He’s willing to do anything to get those sad, sympathetic eyes away from him, and he thinks the only way to do that is to tell them about his new arrangement. He shakes his hair out and then pushes it back out of his eyes, smiles at them as sincerely as he can and says, “Speaking of Liam, Niall came by yesterday and insisted I move in with the two of them to help out with the kids.” 

The shock that courses through the room and makes its way onto each of their faces has Harry laughing harder than he has in months. He leans forward resting his head on his arms while he tries to gain composure. He looks up and Gemma’s staring at him in utter disbelief. “Come off it, Harry.” 

“What? I’m being serious! We moved in yesterday. Well, I packed up as many clothes as I could — figured it’s not permanent and his place isn’t that far from mine, so if I need anything I can just stop by. But yeah.” 

Anne shakes her head in disbelief, like she can’t possibly wrap her head around what she’s hearing, and then Harry smiles at her cheekily. “Mum, didn’t you want Niall to look after me?”

Anne laughs. “He told you? That little..” She stops and her face softens, always has been so fond of Niall. “I might’ve been a bit worried about you yesterday before we spoke.” 

Harry hums his assent, not saying that he thinks she’s probably _still_ a bit worried about him and smiles at the fact that his mum is so chummy with Niall. After a beat, Robin asks what they’re probably all thinking: “How is it over there?”

Harry doesn’t know if he should tell them everything — doesn’t want to make them worry more by telling him that Liam’s currently giving him the silent treatment — so, instead he settles on, “It’s a bit weird. The house is just so — like it’s so _her_. It’s nice to still see her in the things she left behind, y’know?”

Anne looks at Harry, really looks at him, like she’s searching for something in him. Her eyes are wet, but she’s smiling. “Harry. Oh, darling, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. People will understand if it’s too much.” 

Even Gemma, always the one to tell Harry he needs to do things — make sure he’s helpful, touches his hand softly and says, “You have to look after yourself first, Harry.” 

Harry’s heart swells, and he feels like it might escape his chest through his throat at the way his family is looking at him, always so kind and understanding, never pushing him to do things he doesn’t want to. He thinks had he called his mum when Niall arrived, told her that he couldn’t possibly go and live in that house surrounded by the home Addie built and the kids she raised, couldn’t look at Liam and not remember the love they had, he might have thought she was right. He might have been able to say no to Niall, tell him that he just wasn’t comfortable being there right now that it would be too much. 

But now, after seeing Liam — seeing the bags under his eyes and hearing Niall talk about how grateful he is to have them there to help — he thinks that this is what he’s meant to do: help Liam get through this. It might even help Harry himself in the end. “No, I think this is exactly what I need. I’ve got a few months until I get back in the studio, and I think submerging myself in helping other people out is exactly what I need.” 

Anne still looks like she wants to swaddle him up and tuck him into bed and never let him leave — at least not until she knows that he’s one-hundred percent okay, but Gemma’s smiling and shaking her head next to him. “You were always obsessed with babies.”

The mood shifts then. Robin and Anne are laughing, and Gemma’s pulling a face beside him, teasing. 

Gemma heads back to her flat late that night, but Harry decides to stay. He tucks into his old room — long converted to a guest room, but it still has traces of his childhood, feels comfortable and right. He sends Niall a text that he’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, and then sleeps better than he has in months. 

In the morning, Anne makes him a bigger breakfast than he could possibly need. She sends him off with a kiss to each cheek and a look that says she’s wary about this arrangement, telling him, “Please call if you have any questions about the kids!” 

He hugs her one last time and tries to ease her worry. “Mum, a child practically lives with us on tour. I think I know my way around a baby or two.” 

Anne looks up at him and opens her mouth to say something, but Robin just squeezes her shoulder and says, “Harry, let us know if you need anything! I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” 

*

Harry gets back at half-two and opens the door to find Liam sitting on the sofa with Kit, Daisy set up in her moses chair by the fireplace. Kit’s laughing at the programme that’s on the telly and doesn’t notice Harry walk through the foyer to join them. Liam smiles at him — a bit reserved, but more than anything he’d offered yesterday and jostles Kit’s side. “Kit, that’s no way to give a man a welcome. Say ‘hi’ to Harry.” 

Kit turns to him and her face lights up. She says, a little reproachful, “You missed breakfast, mister!” 

Liam’s eyes go wide and he looks from Kit to Harry, apologetic, but Harry doesn’t mind. Just sits down on the sofa next to her and asks, “Hmm. What’d I miss?”

She’s already turned back to the telly and doesn’t answer. 

Niall comes through the kitchen then, answering for her, “Liam made eggs. I made toast. We ate oranges. It was all very well-balanced and domestic of the two of us.” 

Niall always has this way about him where he makes the most mundane things sound like the best time, and Harry’s actually a little disheartened he missed it. He turns to Liam, who’s watching him carefully, and says, “Won’t miss it again, Liam. I’m all in. Here to help.” 

He thought Liam’s smile when he got in and the way he didn’t flinch when he sat down on the sofa with him was a good sign — that maybe they were making progress, but Liam’s lips purse and he closes his eyes, like maybe he’s counting to ten, and then stands up. He heads for his room, looking back at Harry with a face schooled in neutrality and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s whatever.” 

Harry leans his head back against the sofa and groans into his hands.

Kit turns her attention away from the telly for a moment and pokes him in the side. “Shhh, Harry.”

Niall barks a laugh. “Kit’s very invested in Peppa Pig. Can’t tear her away from her.” 

Harry motions for the kitchen, needing to talk and Niall follows. Harry opens the fridge to look for something to eat, sees that the pizza box has disappeared and finds that the remaining slices have been placed in a plastic ziplock bag on the side of the door, and sighs in frustration. He can’t even put the leftovers away right. He grabs a slice and takes a large bite, looking at Niall imploringly.

Niall’s face falters a bit. “Harry, mate, I’m sorry. But you can’t expect to ditch us all for three months and then come back and have everyone be all chummy.” 

His words hit Harry like a bucket of cold water being thrown over his head. He leans back against the fridge and hangs his shoulders in shame. “Yeah, but _you_ did.” 

Niall scratches at the back of his neck and looks at Harry thoughtfully, touching his mouth in consideration. “True. But you know I can’t stay mad at you,” he says, shrugging. 

Harry nibbles at his pizza, stomach twisting in desperation, feeling dizzy with his need to be forgiven. “I’m here. I came back!” He scrubs at his face with his empty hand and tries to steady his voice. “I didn’t mean to abandon anyone. I just needed some time.”

Niall’s face goes hard for a moment before he schools it back to something approachable. “Listen, I know this. But he needed _you_. He needed the person who knew his wife better than anyone — the person who got what he was going through more than any of us — and you weren’t here.” 

Harry feels like Niall’s going to burn a hole right through his face from the way he’s looking at him. Niall’s eyes are sharp and he’s lost the approachable look all together. 

“I know! I know!” Harry tries to steady his voice as to not bother Kit in the other room, but he feels a little unhinged and it’s hard to keep his tone even. “I fucked up and I want to make it better, but I can’t do that if he won’t talk to me!” 

Niall’s face softens and he steps forward, reaching a hand out to touch Harry’s hip in comfort. “He’ll come around. You just have to make him listen.” 

Niall turns out of the kitchen and lets Kit know that it’s almost naptime. He looks back at Harry and says, “I’ve gotta get to work soon. Will you help me put them down for their naps before I go?”

They put the girls down for their naps, and then Niall heads off for work, leaving Harry with a smile and mouthing, “Just talk to him,” when he leaves the house. 

Harry sighs. He really wants to — he wants to let Liam yell at him, tell him that he’s a fucking dick, whatever it takes for Liam to just _talk_ to him again, but he doesn’t know how to do it when Liam won’t leave his room. 

Harry makes sure the baby monitor is turned all the way up, and then he lies down to have a nap. He wakes up feeling groggy and out of sorts, his mouth stale and grimy. He heads downstairs for a glass of water and finds Liam in the kitchen on the phone, saying, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I think I can start up again.” 

It’s out before Harry can stop himself: “Oh you’re getting back in the studio?” 

Liam turns around, startled. He blinks rapidly and tucks his phone away in his pocket. “Yeah, can’t just stop living life forever.” 

He looks a little unsure, like maybe he’s trying to convince himself of it, and Harry doesn’t know what to say, but he wants to say something — anything to make Liam feel better. Harry settles on, “You’re doing a lot better than I am. Just convinced my team to give me another two months off from starting in on the new album.”

Liam’s face falls and he looks at Harry sharply. “That’s nice, man. But I can’t just stop working. I have to put food on the table for the kids.” 

Harry doesn’t want Liam to rush into something he’s not comfortable with, so he offers, “Hey, if you’re not ready to go back, Liam, you don’t have to worry about money. I can help you out.” 

Liam’s face twists in anger and he snaps, “I don’t need your money, Harry.” 

Harry backpedals, feeling awful, “No, that’s not — I just want to help.” 

He thinks this might be the moment, the moment Niall had warned him he didn’t want, where Liam blows up on him. He recoils at the way Liam looks at him, eyes hard and unkind, the way his lips curls up in anger as he says, voice steely, “Help? You want to help?” 

His voice is rising and his cheeks are flushing; Harry knows this is the moment. He prepares himself for the worst, but the way Liam throws his absence in his face with such disgust still hurts. “If you wanted to help you wouldn’t have fucking left me.” 

“I didn’t leave you! I mean, I left. But I needed to get away from it all.” Harry feels desperate and frustrated and he just wants this to stop. He wants Liam to forgive him and understand that he needed time to grieve, too. He knows it was selfish to leave without letting anyone know and to ignore everyone’s calls, but he doesn’t like to be made to feel as though his grieving was any less important.

Liam’s face softens; he doesn’t look nearly as disgusted, just a bit sad now. He runs his hand over his face and his eyebrows knit together, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. He sounds defeated when he says, “I know. But I _needed_ you.” 

There’s something about the way he says ‘needed’ that breaks Harry’s heart. Having Liam admit it and not just hearing it from Niall spurs Harry into action. He has to settle this, has to make this right with Liam. He steps forward, reaching out to touch his shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance, but Liam just steps back out of the way, backing up into the table. His eyes are sad and expressive, and he’s biting at his bottom lip nervously.

Harry grabs Liam’s hip and pulls him forward. “Will you just come here?” 

Harry closes the space between them and wraps his arms around him tightly, whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.” 

Liam’s always been nearly the same size as Harry, but there’s something about the way he slumps against Harry, head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapping around him just as firmly, that makes Harry feel like he’s so much bigger than Liam. They stay like that for a long while, wrapped in each other’s arms, Liam breathing softly on Harry’s neck, and then Liam pulls back and his face looks kinder than it has since Harry and Niall first moved in.

He touches Harry’s face, softer than Harry would have expected, and says, “Really am glad you’re here.” 

He ruffles Harry’s hair and then slaps his arse, laughing. “Dunno how’d we survive between the three meals Niall and I know how to cook. Now you can do it all!” 

So much tension that Harry hadn’t fully realised that he’d built up suddenly leaves his body. He holds his hand to his heart, and plays wounded. “Is that all I am to you, Liam? A cook? I will have you know I’m a much more versatile person than that!” 

Liam’s smile is so bright that Harry’s a little taken aback and his stomach flips ridiculously. “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Liam says. “See how long you can last being a nanny, pop star.” 

* 

Niall comes home at half-seven, shouting from the door, “Harry Styles, you gotta give your fans some information or so help me God I won’t be able to keep my cool on air anymore.” He’s laughing, though, and doesn’t sound serious at all. 

He comes into the kitchen to see Harry and Liam fixing dinner, and he stops in his tracks. He scratches at his chest, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, looking between the two of them confused, mildly amused. “I see you two made up. Didn’t think it’d happen this fast.” 

Harry looks away from where he’s browning the meat and sees Niall raising an eyebrow in Liam’s direction, silently questioning him. Liam shrugs his shoulders and smiles, and Harry feels lighter somehow, like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

The moment is short-lived though because then Niall turns to Harry, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. “Honestly, tweet something out to your fucking fans. Give ‘em a bone or something because it’s apparently all over the papers that you were seen moving-in here and I got this caller today —” He stops as if he’s remembering something painful. “You should have seen Zayn’s face. We have that segment where people call in with their traffic woes or whatever and this girl — like didn’t sound much older than seventeen, really, calls in today and she —” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter and Liam’s stopped helping at this point, all together; he’s just watching Niall with a fond smile, waiting for him to finish his story. 

Niall gathers his composure, eyes bright and face flushed from laughter. “She like — she’s fine and everything, just talking normally about how her and her friends kept getting stopped at each set of traffic lights with the same person and I honestly don’t even know where her story was going because then she just starts screaming. Like the highest pitched noise I’ve ever heard, Zayn nearly switched over to another caller right then. But then she’s saying something about you and she’s proper hyperventilating at this point and I’m trying to calm her down, telling her how it’s okay and that she doesn’t want to distract her friend from driving, so she should try and breathe or something, right? And she just starts rambling about how her friend was checking her phone and some site - dunno which one — was reporting that you were seen moving into a house with me. And I swear I’ve never felt so flattered in my life because this girl was talking to me like I held the secrets to the whole goddamn universe.” 

Harry turns back, checking the meat one last time before adding the tomato sauce, stirring again before turning the heat down to let it simmer. He turns back to Niall, quirks an eyebrow at him, and asks, “And did you tell her it was true?”

“No, of course not. Talked around the subject until she calmed down. She told me to tell you she said hello and that she loves you to pieces, though. But really, mate, you gotta give your fans something. They’re desperate to know you’re okay.” 

Harry shakes his head in amazement that this is something he even has to worry about, and then he gets his phone out, takes a picture of the sauce and sends it off with the caption: _feelin’ saucy ;)_

“There. That should get them off your back for a while.” 

“Cheers, Harry.” 

* 

Later that night Harry checks his twitter mentions for the first time since he left. There’s still so many telling him that they hope he’s okay and sending their condolences, but there’s a lot yelling at him for not updating his twitter at all in the last three months, quite a few asking him what he’s feeling saucy about — apparently they didn’t get the joke — and as he scrolls he finds one with a news story attached. 

He clicks on the link even though he knows better and the headline reads: HARRY STYLES MOVES IN WITH RADIO HOST NIALL HORAN AND PRODUCER LIAM PAYNE: IS THERE AN ALBUM IN THE MIDST?

There’s a picture of Niall and Harry hauling their luggage out of the boots of their cars in front of Liam’s house, and the body of the article starts with: “Harry Styles, back from an almost three month long absence abroad, has recently been seen moving in to what sources are saying is the house of his deceased best friend’s husband, producer and friend, Liam Payne…”

Harry clicks out of the article and falls back against his pillow. Sometimes it’s overwhelming that this is the reality of his life. He texts Jude: _Coulda warned me the paps would be following me._

Jude calls him ten minutes later, her voice soft and sympathetic, “Saw the articles about moving in, then?”

“Mmm. Sure did.”

Jude clucks her tongue. “Sorry Harry, but there’s been no pap photos of you in the last three months, and the minute we released the statement that you were back in town they must’ve started camping out to try and get a picture of you.” 

Harry rubs at his temple, feeling tired, and she continues on, only sounding more apologetic as she goes: “I didn’t realise you’d be — I had no idea you were moving in with him! I would’ve thought the most we would get were pictures of you going to the shops or catching drinks with people you hadn’t seen in a while — y’know get some buzz about you being back.” 

He yawns, saying, “Don’t worry about it. Just try and keep the kids out of the papers, yeah? Don’t think Liam’s gonna want to subject them to that.” 

“Yeah Harry, I’ll work on that for you. But I can’t make any guarantee. You being around babies is gonna make people go nuts. The papers are gonna be all over it.” 

She hangs up the phone and Harry falls asleep easily, putting it out of his mind. 

It doesn’t come up again until two weeks later. He wakes up at half-four on Sunday morning, sweaty, breathing erratically, having dreamt that Daisy and Kit’s faces were plastered all over the gossip rags and he’d been forced to move back to his place to protect their privacy. He scrubs his hand over his face in frustration, flips his pillow over so he can cool his skin on the other side, and tries to fall back asleep. 

He gives up half an hour later, and goes downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk and a banana. He’s startled to find Liam at the table with an empty bowl of cereal, writing quickly in a notebook. He looks up when Harry joins him at the table, scrubbing at his eyes, looking like he hasn’t been asleep at all. 

“Morning, Harry,” he says through a yawn. His eyes are red around the corners and his hair is rumpled. He looks soft and cozy in his loose joggers, one knee tucked up against his chest. He rests his chin on his knee, smiling at Harry with crinkled eyes. 

Harry’s breath hitches a bit at the sight of it. He doesn’t know what to make of that, so he peels his banana slowly until the feeling passes. He chews his first bite slower than he normally would, and after a moment he asks, “Whatcha working on?” 

Liam’s cheeks colour in the faintest way and he picks at the corner of his nail, embarrassed. “Nothing. Just trying to match some lyrics to this melody Louis sent me earlier. It’s not going very well.” 

Harry reaches forward to turn the notebook toward him so he can get a look, maybe offer some help if he can, but Liam pulls it closer to himself, hurriedly saying, “No, that’s okay. It’s not — no, not ready to share it with anyone yet.” 

He knows that feeling all too well, always gets a little nervous sharing the things he writes with other people. Liam’s cheeks still have a pink tinge to them and Harry changes the subject, asks, “How’s being back in the studio? Working with anyone interesting?” 

Liam stands up and walks his bowl over to the sink, yawning more frequently now. “Not at the moment. Me and Louis are just trying to get back in the groove of things since we’ve been out of it so long.” 

Harry finishes his glass of milk, considers things for a moment, and then says as casually as he can, “Maybe you can — maybe we can write together again. Like we did for my first album.” His heart’s beating in his ears and he doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but he is, and he waits with bated breath for Liam’s answer. 

Liam rubs at his bare chest and looks at Harry for a moment, eyes soft, and then his face erupts in a grin. “Your first album was always your best one. I take full responsibility for that.” 

Harry covers his mouth, not wanting to laugh too loud and wake anyone up; he sobers up when Liam looks at him sincerely, and says, “Yeah, Harry. Maybe we can do that.” 

Then his eyes flicker like he’s suddenly remembered something. He asks, concerned, “What’re you doing up so late, Hazza?” 

Harry closes his eyes for a second, cataloging the warmth that radiates through him at the way Liam says that nickname and how much he’s missed hearing it. He shakes his head softly. “Oh, it was just a silly nightmare. Nothing to worry about.”

Liam’s face morphs in concern. “Are you sure? Anything you need to talk about? Sometimes I find that talking about them makes me feel better about how absurd they are.” 

He sounds so sincere and honest, but Harry can’t bring himself to tell Liam that the biggest fear he has right now is Liam wanting to get rid of him for exposing the kids to a world they don’t need to be a part of. “It’s nothing, really. Just getting used to sleeping in a new bed.” 

Liam looks at Harry like he doesn’t exactly believe him, but he doesn’t push. 

Harry gets up from the table, sets his glass in the sink and throws his banana peel away. He gently checks Liam’s hip with his own, saying, “Don’t look so worried, I’m fine.” 

Liam grabs his wrist loosely, pressing his thumb against Harry’s pulse point softly. “Haven’t stopped worrying about you since you left, mate.” 

His voice is soft, like he’s telling a secret, and his face is so earnest that it’s like a punch to the gut — Harry feels overcome from the admission. He stumbles over his words in trying to respond. “That’s not — you know I should've been worried about you.” 

Liam lets go of Harry’s wrist and cards his fingers through Harry’s hair, shrugging his shoulders. “Everyone else was worrying about me.”

Harry’s caught off-guard by Liam’s sincerity, and he can’t help but feel guilty again for leaving. He steps out of Liam’s touch, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry I left.” 

He doesn’t even realise how irritated and snappy it sounds until Liam recoils a bit, eyes widening in shock, saying apologetically, “Harry, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.” 

Harry sighs, frustrated. “I know!” He runs his hand over his face and tries to force himself calm again, softens his tone, “I know you’re not. I’m just tired.” 

Liam looks at him softly, always so understanding, and pats him on the cheek gently. “Always were a cranky one when tired.” 

Harry swats at Liam’s chest. “Shut up. Am not!” He knows he sounds like a petulant child, but Liam’s laughing, eyes twinkling, and Harry can’t really be bothered. 

“You are, too. Not as bad as when I first met you, though.” 

Harry thinks back to the first time he met Liam — how he and Niall had come to one of his shows back when he was playing sets of Elvis covers and songs off one EP in little dive bars — and feels a little indignant. “That’s because it was one in the morning and my best mate, _who I hadn’t seen in months_ , was chatting you up instead of paying attention to me!” 

Liam’s eyes crinkle up in fondness, smiling sweetly at the memory. “Yeah, but what’s your excuse for every night we spent in the studio for your first album?” His voice is teasing, and it makes Harry feel warm that they can still be like this.

Harry concedes, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’m a bit cranky when I’m tired.” 

They stand there lost in their own thoughts and then Liam yawns, shaking his head like he’s just remembered an amusing story. “Bit funny when you think about it.” 

“What, me being cranky?”

Liam wrinkles his nose and Harry feels like he’s two steps behind, like he’s missed something entirely in that short moment. 

“No, no,” Liam says with a wave of his hand. “That Niall and I were there that night because he thought I’d think you were fit.” 

Harry’s head buzzes with the information and his chest feels a bit tight. “Oh really?” He waggles his eyebrows, trying to make a joke out of it to abate the feeling. “And how did I measure up?” 

Liam considers him for a moment, eyes glancing over Harry’s sleep rumpled state, mulling over his words briefly. “Hmm. Met Addie before you came on — never really thought about it, to be honest.” He rubs at his eye, yawning. “Anyway, Harry, I gotta get to sleep. Kit’s got a playdate tomorrow and I have to look somewhat presentable for it.” 

Harry doesn’t understand how Liam can stand there, joggers falling loosely around his hips and eyes bleary from lack of sleep and admit to him that Niall was trying to get them together so casually, like it’s no big deal — and it’s not to Liam, that much is obvious. But Harry feels dizzy with it and shakes his head to try and clear it, saying, “Yeah, yeah. I should get back to bed, too.” 

Liam moves to leave the kitchen finally, turning back a bit to say, “Sleep well, Harry. If you have another nightmare just sneak into Niall’s room. He’s always up for a cuddle.” 

Harry watches Liam leave and then heads upstairs to settle back into bed. He feels wide-awake now, but he tries to get back to sleep anyway. He tosses and turns for what feels like days — thinking about the way Liam looked when he said Niall was trying to hook the two of them up, how it shouldn’t even mean anything to him at all; it should just be a casual statement of original intentions, not something that should feel so altering. 

*

Harry spends the next two and a half weeks getting lost in the conversation from the kitchen that night. He’s noticing all these new, endearing things about Liam he’d never paid attention to before: the way he crinkles his brow in concern when Harry looks extra tired, like he’s wondering if Harry’s had another nightmare he refuses to talk about; the little half smile Liam does when he’s listening to Niall’s show and he mentions something about Kit; the way sometimes, when the girls have been particularly rambunctious, Liam’ll lie down to have a nap with them, Kit tucked up next to him and Daisy on his chest. 

Every time Liam looks at Harry with those stupid expressive brown eyes of his, Harry hears those words from the kitchen that night ringing in his head and he starts going a bit mad with it all, getting antsy and irritable, not knowing what to do with himself. He starts going out again just to give himself some sort of reprieve. He’d feel guilty about it if Niall wasn’t there helping out, too, or if Liam didn’t encourage him to do so, looking at him with soft concerned eyes, always saying, “Hazza, maybe if you got out some more, you’d stop having so many nightmares, mate.” 

Harry doesn’t have it in his heart to tell him that the reason he looks so tired and cranky all the time is that Liam turned Harry’s world upside-down by revealing the truth about why he was there with Niall at Harry’s show that first night they met and how for some reason that’s important. For some reason Harry can’t, or won’t, put his finger on, he’s become obsessed with it. 

Niall corners him about it one night as Harry’s heading out to some new club opening Jude texted him about. He comes into Harry’s room, face twisted up in concern, and shuts the door as Harry’s pulling on a clean shirt, asking, “What’s been up with you the last month? You’ve been acting really weird.” 

Harry fidgets with his necklaces, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing, really. Just getting a bit restless, I guess.” 

Niall’s eyes narrow in disbelief. He scratches at the front of his hair and says, “Come off it, Harry. I know you better than that. Something’s up.” 

Harry turns for his wardrobe, looking for the perfect flannel shirt, and shrugs again, going for casual. “It’s nothing. A few weeks ago Liam just told me some new information about that night we first met, and it’s just been making me feel funny.” 

He turns back to see Niall looking at him half amused, half like he’s off his rocker. “That was years ago. What could he have possibly said that’d make you act like such a stroppy five year-old?”

Niall’s laughing, but it’s short and breathy, and it makes Harry feel like he’s being silly; he knows he is. He fiddles with his shirt again. “It’s stupid, honestly. And I don’t know why it even matters to me, but he told me that the night we met you had brought him there because you thought he’d think I was fit, and it’s just been on my mind a lot.” 

Niall’s eyes flicker with something Harry can’t make out, and then he’s laughing, big and bright and teasing. He says, “Mate, I knew you liked to be the center of attention, but I didn’t think it’d go this far.” 

Harry finds himself laughing, too. Niall’s laughter’s always so infectious and Harry feels lighter, more easy about the whole situation, like maybe that’s why he has been so bothered by it all. Maybe it was just a blow to his ego and now that he’s realised that he’ll be able to get over it. He pulls on his boots and then heads for the door, clapping Niall on the back as he goes. “I think maybe you’re right. Just need to get outta the house and around people who care far too much about me. Then I’ll be back to normal, swear it.” 

Niall looks at him skeptically, as if maybe there’s something he’s thinking that he’s not sharing, but then he laughs again, more quietly this time. “Yeah Harry, do what you have to do.” 

Then he pokes at his cheek, “We miss that smiling face of yours. Take care of yourself.” 

* 

That night at the club Harry has one too many drinks. He stumbles a bit on his way out, and the flash of the cameras make his head spin a bit. He takes a taxi home and trips up the steps to the door. His head feels hazy, his body loose, and he steadies himself on the railing of the stairs, tries to be as quiet as he can going to his room. He steps on one of Kit’s toys on his way and stumbles backwards, landing on his bum with a soft, “Oof.”

Harry giggles at his misfortune, but then Daisy starts crying from the room over and Harry groans. Apparently he’s made more noise than he thought. 

Niall comes out of his room not too long after, rubbing at his eyes and looking down at Harry in annoyance. “Jesus Harry, what time is it? Why are you on the ground?” 

Harry brings his finger to his lip, whispering, “Shhh, you’ll wake the baby.”

Niall rolls his eyes, heading for Daisy’s door. He turns back to Harry to say, “You already did that, mate,” before he disappears inside her room. 

It takes Harry a moment to get up from the floor and by the time he settles into bed, clothes and boots still on Niall’s peeking in through his door, asking, “Did you have a good time tonight?”

Harry waves his arm dramatically, “Shh shh. I’m trying to sleep.”

Niall comes in laughing, “Come on, you don’t even have your boots off yet.”

Harry shakes his head because that doesn’t matter. His bed feels so comfortable and the prospect of taking his boots off just doesn’t appeal to him at all. “Mmm. It’s alright. I’ll do it in the morning.” 

Harry feels Niall pull his boots off, placing them by his bed, and then he unbuttons Harry’s jeans, telling him to lift his hips so he can get them off. After, when Niall’s telling him to budge up for a minute so he can get the duvet over him, Harry grabs his wrist loosely, saying rushed, like it’s too important to keep bottled up, “Hey, you’re Liam’s best friend.”

Niall knits his brows together in confusion, saying slowly, “Yeah. I know.” 

Harry shakes his head softly, head spinning a bit with the motion, holding onto Niall’s wrist tighter, trying to steady himself, trying not to slur his words, “So you should know.” 

Niall pulls his hand away, carding it through Harry’s hair. “What’re you on about, Harry?” 

Harry pulls Niall’s hand away and hugs it to his chest. “No, no. Why didn’t Liam think I was fit? I’m fit, yeah?” 

Niall looks at him sympathetically and Harry doesn’t understand why, but it makes him feel hazier than he already does. He closes his eyes and mumbles into his pillow, “I think Liam’s fit.” 

He’s vaguely aware of the way Niall whispers, “Oh, Harry,” softly and presses his lips to Harry’s forehead before closing the door. Harry’s already so close to sleep, though, that when he wakes up in the morning, he has no recollection of their conversation — doesn’t remember anything past Niall taking his boots off and pulling the duvet over him. 

He has a shower and when he gets back to his room, he checks his phone to see three missed calls from Jude and one new text reading: Almost time to get back in the studio! I hope you’ve enjoyed playing house.

The dull ache of his head from a night of too much drinking and sleeping in past two in the afternoon amplifies at the reminder. His heart stutters at the thought of bringing up to Liam that he was serious about writing together again. 

He goes downstairs for a glass of water and a bite to eat, hoping that’ll make the pain subside. He finds Liam lying on the sofa with his head tipped to the side, eyes closed, asleep. He’s got Daisy resting on his chest, arm loosely slung around her small frame, keeping her snug against him, and he looks so serene, his chest rising and falling with each breath. It’s almost as if seeing Liam flips a switch because suddenly last night’s events come rushing back to him. 

Kit giggles from the kitchen, though, and Harry’s drawn away, out of his head. She’s set up at the table with a mound of crayons, colouring what appears to be a giant green blob with hands at the end while beside her, Niall draws a sun and a few flowers. 

Harry comes up behind him, lifting Niall’s paper a bit, and says, “Regular Picasso you are.” 

Niall leans his head back against Harry’s chest, looking up at him, eyes briefly clouding in concern, probably thinking about last night, before saying huffily, “Shut it, you.” 

Kit looks at them, brandishing her finished drawing in the air, voice laced with excitement, “Look! I drawed Niall!” 

He and Niall look away from each other, and both knit their eyebrows together in confusion until Kit goes on, sounding like she’s talking to two three year-olds, saying, “It’s a lucky leaf! Niall’s a lucky leaf!” 

Harry finally catches on. “A shamrock? Niall’s a shamrock because he’s Irish?” He ruffles Niall’s hair.

Niall giggles. “Right you are, Kit Kat.” He kisses her on the cheek, taking the drawing from her and giving it an appreciative glance over before whispering to Harry, “No need to tell her shamrocks and four-leafed clovers aren’t the same thing, though.” 

Harry smiles back at him, but Kit just looks at them, face twisted up in confusion like she doesn’t get what being Irish has to do with anything and says exasperatedly, “No! Daddy said Niall’s his lucky charm. This is a lucky leaf. It’s Niall.” 

Harry can’t remember the last time he saw Niall’s face go that soft, his voice is a bit breathy when he asks, “When’d your daddy say that, Kit?”

She seems to be losing interest in the conversation fast, already picking up new crayons and drawing on a clean piece of paper, she bites her lip in concentration while she draws a line and says, “When mummy left.” 

Harry’s heart churns at those words, and then Liam comes in through the kitchen with Daisy on his hip, a crease on his cheek from where his face was pushed against the cushions, and asks, “What’re you three getting up to this afternoon?” 

Harry doesn’t know why he says it, doesn’t know why he makes a deal out of it, but before he can stop himself he’s saying, “Kit’s just been telling us how Niall’s your lucky charm.” 

Liam’s eyes shift for a moment, like he may hear the unease in Harry’s voice, but then he’s smiling brightly at Niall, eyes crinkling up in fondness. “Yeah, yes. He is.” 

Harry grips the back of the chair to steady himself; his heart feels like it’s coming undone and something twists in his stomach uncomfortably. He looks down at Niall — and his cheeks are flushing and he’s smiling softly back at Liam. Harry wants to run to his room and go back to sleep. He doesn’t quite understand it, but the thought of Liam considering Niall lucky, turning to him during his time of grieving, being his best friend, makes Harry’s throat tight and his skin hot. 

He inhales roughly, choking on his own spit, and coughs. 

Niall rests his head back on Harry’s chest, looking up at him with a disgusted face. “God Harry, don’t fucking cough on me, man.” 

Kit turns to him surprised, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Niall! Niall! Bad word! Niall!” 

Liam’s laughing from the other end of the kitchen, tickling Daisy’s stomach causing her to giggle in delight, and Niall says, “Shit — Shoot! Bugger! Right, Kit, don’t go saying that word.” He leans over and stage-whispers to her, “Keep it our little secret. Don’t let Daddy know.” He looks over her and winks at Liam, who smiles reluctantly — his face caught somewhere between a laugh and judgement, shaking his head. 

Kit’s face lights up in outrage. She turns to look at Liam and then back at Niall. “Daddy’s there!” 

Niall sits up quickly, turning to the side to look at Harry and swats at his chest in mock anger. “Harry! Why didn’t you let me know?” 

Kit’s giggling from her seat and Harry tries to play along, but his head’s still lost in the clouds. 

Liam saves him from having to respond, walking over and handing Daisy over to Harry, picking Kit up himself and twirling her around, kissing her forehead. “Kit! You’re such a good girl,” Liam says. “So much more mature than our little Nialler.” 

Niall stands up from his seat, coming up to where Liam’s now got Kit hugged against his chest, and Niall kisses the top of her head. “Don’t listen to him, Kit. I’m very mature. Daddy’s always coming to me for advice.” 

Harry’s heart races and his stomach swoops uncomfortably at how much of a family the three of them look like and he pulls Daisy closer, whispering, “It’s alright Daisy Chain, it’ll be us two against the world. Just Daisy and Harry. ” 

She looks at him and giggles. She grabs at his face with her chubby little arm, clasping her hand around one of the curls around his ear and says, “Ehwe!” 

Harry feels warm all over. He’s shocked and a bit overjoyed, not knowing if this really just happened. He looks up over her head. Liam’s staring at him in awe, asking slowly, “Did she just? Did she just try and say your name, mate?” 

Niall’s looking at him indignantly, laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Her first attempt at a real word was your name?” 

Harry tickles Daisy’s side, coaxing her, “Say it again.” 

She hits his chest softly with the other hand, laughing. “Aiwwy!”

Liam sets Kit down to come over and grab Daisy out of Harry’s hands, looking at her proudly, kissing her little hand. “Oh sweetie, what a great first word.” 

He looks over at Harry, and Harry feels overcome with how beautiful he is, standing there smiling sweetly at him. His heart speeds up; he never wants Liam to stop looking at him like that. There’s a tug at his jeans and Kit’s looking up at him in sadly. “She didn’t say it good.” 

Niall swoops in, picking her up and twirling her around. “Oh Kit Kat, don’t be jealous, baby girl! Your sister just said her first word. That’s such a big milestone!” He looks at Harry and shakes his head in disappointment. “Even if it’s a silly one like ol’ Uncle Harry’s name.” 

Harry pinches Niall’s side, laughing, feeling so much lighter now that they’re teasing again, no longer focused on the way Liam had been looking at him or the sweeping feeling he got in response to it. Niall flinches away from the touch and Kit looks at him disapprovingly. “Mean, Harry! Very mean!” 

Niall’s laughing at the way Harry’s face scrunches up, saying, “Exactly! _Very_ mean. You’ve always got my back, Kit. That’s why you’re my favourite.” 

Kit giggles in Niall’s arms, hugging him tight, smiling happily. Harry looks between Niall and Liam with the two girls in their arms smiling brightly, and he feels warm and fond all over. He’s so happy he moved-in and that he’s got this little makeshift family to call his own. He’s so caught up in the emotion that he even doesn’t think about the dreadful feeling he gets in his stomach every time he remembers that conversation in the kitchen or how he thinks Liam is fit for weeks. 

*

May comes along and his two months of freedom are up. He gets a text from Jude the first Saturday of the month that says: _Gotta get back on the grind. We’ve got the usual people lined up to work with but if you want someone different let me know and I’ll see what we can do._

He lets out a low groan from the end of the sofa where he’s seated and Kit shushes him; Harry laughs to himself about how Niall was right about her and Peppa Pig. He whispers, “Kit, I’m having a crisis here. This is more important than Peppa!” 

She looks over at him disapprovingly and then returns to the screen. Harry gets up and checks on Daisy in her moses basket before heading down the hall to Liam’s room, knocking softly before entering. 

Liam’s sitting on his bed, computer in his lap, music playing softly. He’s mouthing the words quietly to himself, his eyes bright, and Harry’s suddenly nervous. 

He kicks at the carpet, sticking his thumbs in his pockets, and says, “Hey, Liam. Can I talk to you for a second?” 

Liam looks up from the screen surprised, like he honestly didn’t hear Harry come in. “Yeah Haz. What’s up?”

“You know how, um, like last month or whatever in the kitchen,” he fumbles and he just can’t get the words out. 

Liam pushes his laptop to the side, closing it, and looks at Harry in confusion.

Harry surges forward, wanting to be understood. “You know that night I had the nightmare and we were talking in the kitchen and you were working on that song and,” he stops, rubbing at his face roughly. “I asked if we could write together sometime?”

Liam smiles, catching on. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna come by the studio sometime? Work with me and Louis?” 

Harry swallows thickly; he knows that’s how it was when they worked together the first time, but this time feels different, or at least, he _wants_ it to be different. He says softly, nervous to admit it, “I was kinda wondering if we could work together. Just me and you.”

Liam looks surprised, but not unhappy, his mouth parted a little like he’s caught off-guard. He licks his lips and Harry’s heart beats out of time while he waits with bated breath for his answer.

“Louis and I are working with someone right now. She kinda reminds me of you actually, weirdly obsessed with Elvis, too.” 

Harry’s heart drops. He feels like he might pass out from how disappointed he is; he’s thought that maybe spending time with Liam alone, working on something together, would help him sort out whatever he’s feeling, figure out what’s been going on since that night in the kitchen. 

Liam purses his lips, his voice gentle as he says, “Oh, Harry, no. That’s not — no I didn’t mean we couldn’t work together. I was just going to say that we’d probably have to do it when we’re not working with her.” 

Harry feels like he might float away he’s so relieved. “Oh yeah, yeah. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” 

Liam smiles at him teasingly this time. “It’s gonna be a lot of late nights, Haz. Can’t be a cranky twat like last time. I won’t stand for it.” 

Harry laughs loudly, feeling light with Liam’s words. “Yeah. Promise. Cross my heart even,” he says making an exaggerated motion over his heart. “I swear Liam, you won’t regret this.” 

* 

Liam doesn’t seem to regret it, but Harry definitely does. He lets Jude know he doesn’t want to work with anyone but Liam. She sends him demos from other songwriters to listen to anyway, telling him that she thinks they’d be a good fit, but he’s adamant about not working with anyone else except for Liam. Jude eventually gets the team to concede — always is persuasive when she needs to be — as long as he sends them updates on their progress. 

They start working almost immediately, and any hope Harry had of sorting his feelings out are dashed at the way Liam works. He never noticed any of it the first time around, but Liam does the most endearing things when he’s working — he wrinkles his nose when he writes, crinkles his brow up in concentration when he’s jotting down a new idea, and he looks at Harry with something almost like adoration when Harry’s singing him something he’s been thinking of. It clouds Harry’s head even more; he can’t stop thinking about Liam. 

Niall teases them about it all the time, finding them tucked up in the kitchen bouncing ideas off each other. Harry can’t help but feel annoyed by it, wanting to protect this thing he has, keep it away from being tarnished. 

One morning after a particularly long, productive night, Niall knocks on Harry’s door loudly, yelling through it, “Wake up Harry, I’m not doing all the babysitting just because you and Liam are getting cozy writing your new album. That’s not fair!” 

There’s something in Niall’s voice that makes Harry’s stomach twist. He doesn’t like it and he just wants to go back to sleep. But Niall calls through the door, “Come on Harry, I need help getting them fed and then I have to go. I’m meeting Liam for lunch.” 

Harry finds his way out of bed quicker than he would have expected at that, opening the door with matted hair and eyes still sticky with sleep, voice rough when he asks, “What do you mean you’re meeting Liam for lunch?”

Niall’s eyes sharpen. “Just as I said, I’m meeting Liam for lunch. We’re having lunch. Y’know eating together. Consuming food in each other’s presence.” 

Harry’s cheeks heat up. “Hey,” he says, “don’t be a prick. I just woke up,” and then after a moment of thought, “Why wasn’t I invited?” 

Niall scratches at his neck, snapping, “Because you’ve been occupying all his time and I miss him, man.” 

Harry toes at the carpet, tilting his head to the side apologetically, saying softly, “Sorry, Niall. I didn’t realise.”

Niall rubs at his arm, looking at the floor dejectedly. “Sorry for snapping. It’s —” He pauses, looking up at Harry questioningly, almost like he’s afraid to ask. “Harry, is there something going on between you and Liam?” 

Harry’s caught off-guard and when he answers, he knows Niall doesn’t believe him, but he’s telling the truth because as much as Harry thinks he might want something to be happening between him and Liam, there isn’t. “No. There’s really not.” 

Niall bites at the corner of his thumb, laughing nervously. “Yeah, okay. You just said he was fit a while back and you’ve been acting all weird around him for a while so I was just…” 

“Wondering, yeah I get it,” Harry finishes for him. 

There’s something guarded in Niall’s eyes, but his voice is soft and kind with the utmost sincerity when he says, “Harry, you know if you, like, fancied him, you could tell me, right?” 

Harry laughs to keep himself from blushing, clapping Niall on the shoulder. “Of course. But I don’t. Now let’s get these little monsters fed. You know Daisy throws a fit if she doesn’t eat on time.” 

*

Harry becomes painfully aware of just how much he cares about Liam five weeks into writing. They’re in the dining room writing — Liam wanting to have more space to spread out this time — when Liam finally shows Harry the song he was working on that night in the kitchen, and it’s this beautiful thing about loss and love; Harry feels like he’s looking right into Liam’s soul. He touches Liam’s overturned hand on his knee saying quietly, “Liam, this is about Addie.” 

It’s not really a question, just an affirmation of what Harry knows to be true, but Liam still smiles weakly at him, a bit timid, fiddling with his ear nervously. “Yeah, of course it is.” 

Harry’s heart aches. He wants to hug Liam tightly, tell him that he’s doing so well and that they’ll get through this together, but he still can’t allow himself that, can’t trust himself to hold Liam in his arms and ever be the same. He settles for squeezing Liam’s hand gently, smiling softly. 

Liam bites at his lip and Harry loses a little more of his will, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of Liam’s wrist as Liam says, “You know, sometimes I feel guilty for not being sad anymore.” He pauses, laughing quietly. “I mean, like, I _am_ sad. I think a part of me will always be sad because I loved her and she didn’t…” 

He trails off, eyes watering a bit, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “She didn’t deserve to die so young and the girls don’t deserve to grow up without a mother, and I think about that every day. But it’s not as — I dunno, it’s not as consuming as it was at first?” 

He’s looking at Harry like he’s desperate for his understanding and Harry feels himself breaking; he’s never actually heard Liam talk about it before. He left before Liam was ready to talk and got back after he no longer needed to, and he doesn’t know what to say. He squeezes Liam’s hand harder, trying to be reassuring, still searching for the words to make him feel alright. 

Liam squeezes Harry’s hand back, looking at him more softly this time, as though what Harry’s doing is exactly what he needs, and says, “It’s like, when my mum was here I was so depressed. Couldn’t get out of bed for the first month or two. I was completely shutting in on myself and I didn’t know what to do. But then Niall started coming around all the time. Wouldn’t leave me alone, actually. He’d just sit with me while I wallowed, tell me to budge up on the bed, and he’d just lie with me, and that made things better. Like, to just have someone there with me, and he’d,” he stops and smiles, remembering something. 

Then he says, “He’d do this thing where he’d come by and ask me what song I’d never skip if it came on my ipod right now, and then he’d tell me to tune into his show at a certain time and he’d play it. It was silly, but it always made me feel better, y’know?” 

Harry doesn’t know, not really, and he feels the guilt that he’d worked so hard on getting past surge up again. 

Liam doesn’t let him feel that way for long though, carrying on in his admission: “Don’t look like that Haz, you’ve helped so much. You and Niall coming here, moving-in with me. The kids love you, Daisy especially, and it’s just so nice. I’m so happy with how things are going with you two being here and,” he shakes his head in frustration. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m betraying her by not being sad all the time. For finding a way to be happy.” 

“Oh Liam, that’s not, no, that’s not how it works,” Harry says reassuringly, pulling Liam up out of his seat and into Harry’s, hugging him tightly around the waist. He mutters into his shoulder, “You’re allowed to be happy again. You don’t have to be sad for the rest of your life. That wouldn’t be fair to you or the kids or the memory of her.” 

Liam’s lips softly graze the meat of Harry’s neck, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s just from Liam moving his head or if it’s an actual kiss. He hugs Liam tighter anyway, never wanting to let him go; he wants to get lost in the feel of Liam pressed flush against him, breathing hot against his neck. 

Liam pulls back from Harry’s chest, moving back to his seat, and smiles more brightly this time, feeling better. “Yeah, I know. I just can’t help but feel guilty about moving on.” He shrugs his shoulders, and then looks at Harry thoughtfully. “You handle it so well. I’m quite jealous.” 

Harry laughs louder than he expects, clapping his hand over his mouth in surprise. “Are you serious? Liam, I ran away and didn’t talk to anyone for three months because I couldn’t handle it. At least you stayed.” 

Liam laughs with him. “Yeah, but that’s because I had to. I think maybe if I didn’t have the kids I would’ve followed you. Or at least gone somewhere to get away from it all. Seems like it worked for you.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. He feels choked up, throat tight and uncomfortable, not knowing how to process Liam’s words or the way he’s looking at him, as if he’s something to aspire to be. Harry shakes his head, “It wasn’t all glamorous. I think I cried myself to sleep every night the first month, and I still have nightmares about it sometimes. But I’m happy. I think it’s just something that comes with time. Like, eventually it won’t hurt as bad and one day you won’t feel guilty for being happy, but for now we have each other, and I might not get it completely, but you can always talk to me about it because I do feel it, too.” 

His heart’s hammering in his ears and he feels like something big is about to happen, like he and Liam just came to an understanding, and then Liam’s moving forward, getting out of his seat and Harry’s heart feels like it stops beating all together. 

Liam places his hand on Harry’s cheek softly, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Harry’s cheekbone and Harry tries not to shiver at the touch, praying his goosebumps aren’t obvious. Liam smiles down at him so softly, his eyes kind and grateful, and says, “I haven’t told anyone about that — not even Niall — so thanks for listening.” 

“Yeah, not a problem. Anytime,” Harry says, a bit breathless. 

Liam leans forward and Harry stops breathing, not knowing what to expect. He lets out a soft, appreciative sound from the back of his throat when he feels Liam’s lips gently press against his skin, missing the cheek and landing at the corner of his mouth. 

Liam pulls back, smiling. “I think I’m gonna head to bed, now. We’ve made a lot of progress the last few weeks. Think you’ll be ready to get in the studio properly soon.” 

Harry is tongue-tied, not knowing how to make the words he’s thinking come out of his mouth; he feels like he’s on fire with what just happened, and his head’s buzzing at how casual Liam’s being about it, like he didn’t just flip Harry’s whole world on its side. He pulls himself together enough to say, “Yeah, yeah. Might do.” 

Then Liam’s off, heading to his room to sleep. 

Harry stays at the table for quite some time, fiddling with the notebooks they’ve been writing in, looking through sheets of music, anything to keep his mind at bay — stop himself from cataloging how the scruff of Liam’s jaw felt grazing his cheek, the way his lips were a bit chapped but ultimately soft against his skin. 

The sky starts to lighten before he heads to bed, and he wakes up to Kit knocking on his door at noon, talking excitedly, “Harry! Harry! It’s time to get up! Niall’s making cheese toasties! Harry!” 

Harry groans, rubbing at his eyes to try and wake up, calling back, “I’ll be right out, Kit!” 

Harry makes his way out of his room and finds Kit halfway down the stairs, still struggling to get down, so Harry picks her up, ruffling her hair. “I got you. What’d you have to do to get Niall to make your favourite food? Just bat your little eyelashes at him and he caved?” 

She laughs, tucking her head against Harry’s shoulder, hugging him tight. “No! I just had to ask him!” 

They enter the kitchen to find Liam at the table with Daisy in her high-chair, trying to feed her bits of cereal, and Niall’s cutting the sandwiches into halves before cutting the crust off of one. 

Harry sets Kit down at the table and then goes to help Niall bring the food over. He presses against Niall’s back, whispering into his ear, “Unfair sending Kit to wake me up this morning.” 

He can feel Niall shake with laughter against his skin, pushing back into Harry so that he can turn around. Niall faces him with two plates, eyes crinkling in laughter. “Knew you wouldn’t get up for me! And we’ve got a lot of stuff to do today. Daisy’s birthday is tomorrow, and Liam and I thought it’d be nice if we had people over Saturday to celebrate.” 

Harry blinks in surprise, and Niall shakes his head. “You forgot didn’t you?” 

“No, I — yeah, alright, I did. My head’s been all over the place lately.” 

Niall looks at him almost sympathetically, shaking his head again. “Yeah, I know. Thought writing with Liam might make you get out of your head a bit — seems it’s only made it worse.” 

Harry thinks from the tone in Niall’s voice that he might know something, or at least think he knows something, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just nods his head to the other plates and says, “Come on, bring those over, won’t you? The crustless one’s for Kit. You know how she gets about that.” 

* 

While Niall and Liam go to the shops to get streamers and party hats and finger food for the party, Harry spends the rest of the day calling family to tell them that two days from now, they’ll be celebrating Daisy’s first birthday and they’d love to have them round for lunch and cake. 

The next day, the three of them set the girls up at the kitchen table and sing Daisy _Happy Birthday_. They give her her first taste of cake. She wrinkles her nose and giggles, swatting her arms out playfully when Harry kisses her nose and says, “Happy birthday, Daisy Chain.” 

Niall leaves for the studio shortly after, saying he’ll bring takeaway home for dinner, to just text him what they want. Then it’s just Liam and the girls there with Harry. It’s not different than any other time Harry’s left alone with Liam while Niall’s at work, but somehow it feels absolutely different. He feels awkward and uneasy around Liam, not knowing what to say. 

Liam catches on, asking, “You alright, Harry? Looking a bit pale.” 

“Mmm, I’m fine. Just nervous. Jude’s been texting me about getting in the studio properly and I just don’t know if I’m ready. I dunno, all the songs feel different — more personal, and I don’t know what it’s gonna be like recording them. Or how I’m going to choose which ones to use. My head’s just all over the place lately.” 

“You could always,” Liam fidgets with his shirt collar nervously. “You could always, like, record at the studio with me and Louis? If that’d make you more comfortable. Being around someone familiar.” 

Harry studies Liam’s face. He can tell Liam’s not taking the piss, but Harry still feels so stunned, confused even. “What like — you and Louis produce it?” 

Liam’s face goes red. “Yeah, if you’d want. But if that’s too much, I understand. I’m not trying to step on your toes or anything, just thought I’d offer.” 

“No, that’s a great idea actually! Jude’s gonna have a fit though — having to tell the record execs I don’t wanna work with the usual suspects.” 

Liam’s smiling at Harry reluctantly, shaking his head. “You get too much pleasure in causing that poor woman trouble.” 

“No, I don’t. I just want to shake things up a bit. Do things differently this time.” 

Liam laughs. “Mhm, and it has nothing to do with Jude at all.” 

Harry tilts his head side to side in thought. “Maybe a bit. But she loves me and she always wants me to ‘follow my heart and do what I think’s right,’ and all that. She’s a sap.” 

Liam looks at him knowingly. “You love her, though.” 

Harry waves his hand dismissively, trying not to sound too fond. “Yeah, whatever. She’s lovely. But anyway, this is great Liam. Looks like this album might be the best one yet!” 

* 

He goes to bed that night feeling wonderful; the prospect of spending even more time with Liam spurs on his good mood. In the morning, he wakes up feeling more refreshed than he has in weeks, head feeling clear. 

The mood doesn’t last long, though. He goes downstairs for breakfast to find Niall and Liam giggling by the table, Niall wrapping streamers around Liam’s shoulders, saying, “You look good like this. Think it should be your new look. Like back in uni when you wore those stupid bandanas in your pockets.” 

Harry watches silently from the doorway as Liam’s face lights up in delight. “Shut up! You told me they looked good!” 

Harry feels dizzy with the scene in front of him, and his heart starts pounding so loud he thinks they’ll hear him soon enough. But before he can let himself be known, Niall leans forward and kisses Liam quickly on the mouth. “I may have lied.”

Harry surges forward, making as much noise as he can, and if he had thought they’d pull apart, make themselves look less cosy, he was wrong. They barely move, only turning slightly to look over at Harry happily, like nothing’s happened — and really nothing did. Harry’s seen Niall kiss Liam thousands of times. They’ve been like that since he first met them, and they were like that well after Liam and Addie got married, so it shouldn’t be surprising at all. But there’s something about the way Liam’s mouth curled up at the touch and the way Niall’s looking at him, eyes sparkling, that makes Harry feel like this is different, like this is something more.

“Morning,” he says, more subdued than he’d intended, earning him a concerned look from Liam before Niall steps in, saying, “Don’t sound so dreadful! Today’s the big day. Finally gonna show everyone that we’re three capable adults that can take care of two little kids all on our own!” 

Liam shakes his head, mouthing, “Don’t listen to him,” to Harry, and then he removes the streamers from around his shoulders, piling them back on the table. 

Harry turns to Niall, raising his eyebrow. “When Daisy gets older I’m going to tell her all about the way you threw her a birthday party just to show off how good you were doing!” 

“Not just me, all of us. So you’ll be just as guilty.” Niall’s smiling so widely that Harry can’t help but let go of some of the tension that was building up inside. 

He moves over to the table to help Niall with the decorations, and then heads into the dining room to set up. 

Kit tugs at the leg of his trouser half-way through setting up the streamers, looking up at him sadly, saying, “Why don’t I get a party?” 

Harry crouches down until he’s eye-level with her, tickling her side. “Kit, your birthday’s only three months away, and then you’ll get to have your very own birthday party! And presents and cake, but today’s Daisy’s day. First birthdays are important.” 

Kit huffs in disappointment, but she says, “Okay,” anyway, walking away with her little shoulders turned down, calling out for Niall. Harry hopes Niall can cheer her up because he wants this party to go off without a hitch for Liam. Harry knows that it’s just as important to him that everyone knows he’s doing okay now, too. 

Everything goes well at first. Karen gets a bit weepy when they’re singing _Happy Birthday_. She hugs Liam tightly and whispers to him that he’s doing such a great job. Daisy giggles ridiculously when Niall and Liam blow out the candles for her, Kit clapping when they do it on the first try. His mum takes him aside before lunch and tells him, “You’re doing such a good job, baby. I’m so proud of you,” and Harry’s heart feels like it grows three sizes — always so happy to makes his mother proud. 

At lunch, though, everything goes wrong. Harry doesn’t give Kit the right sandwich and she refuses to eat it, pushing the plate away, saying heatedly, “I don’t like the crusts! I don’t want the crust!” 

Liam kisses the top of her head, grabs a knife from the drawer and cuts the edges off, saying sweetly, “There, sweetie. All better!” 

Harry watches in shock as Kit’s mouth turns into a pout and she whines out, upset, “That’s not how Mummy does it!” 

The room goes tense, and Niall laughs awkwardly from the other side of the table, trying to placate her, “Kit Kat, Daddy did his best, don’t be mean.” 

Daisy giggles from her high-chair and the room’s attention shifts to her momentarily, which only seems to spur Kit’s mood on, shouting, “Well I want Mummy to do it!”

Niall’s getting up, moving to Liam’s side, and Harry sits there frozen, flanked on either side by his mum and his sister, watching as Liam’s face falls, his voice forced even when he says, “Sweetie, Mummy’s not here.” 

Kit crosses her arms, eyes welling up with tears, her voice breaking, “But I want her back! I want her _back_!” 

Liam clears his throat, looking like he needs to chain smoke fifty cigarettes before he can deal with this conversation. He says, “I’ll be — yeah, it was nice seeing you all, thanks for coming. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

He moves away from Niall, turning to head to his room, shoulders tight, head tucked down and Harry finally moves, planning to go after Liam, make sure he’s okay, but Niall’s already leaving, mouthing, “I’ve got him, you get Kit.”

Harry stomach twists painfully, bile rising in his throat at the thought of Niall always being the one to comfort Liam, the one that gets to be his rock, but he shakes his head, knowing now’s not the time to get lost in his feelings about Liam. He picks Kit up and hugs her tightly against his chest, whispering, “Oh sweetie, Mummy can’t come back. But you’ve got me and Niall and your Daddy.” 

She starts crying against his chest, wet and blubbery, and Harry’s heart breaks even more than it had at the look on Liam’s face when she’d said she wanted Addie back. His eyes sting with tears of his own and he looks around at the room full of his and Liam’s families, makes an apologetic face, saying above her head, “Sorry guys, I’m gonna put Kit down for her nap, and then I’ll be right back. Help yourself to whatever you like.” 

Harry shushes Kit soothingly the entire way up the stairs. She calms a bit, so when Harry tucks her into bed she’s only hiccuping softly from crying, face red and watery, looking up at Harry sadly. He brushes her hair out of her face and she grabs his hand, holding his fingers between her tiny little hands.

Harry leans down and kisses her forehead softly, waiting there with her until she falls asleep. 

By the time he joins the rest of them downstairs, Liam and Niall are back, smiling and laughing again, and Harry’s relieved. Liam looks at him appreciatively from where he’s sat next to his mum and smiles brightly. 

Later, after they’ve all left, Liam takes him aside and thanks him properly for helping with Kit, for getting her to sleep, and Harry brushes it off like it was nothing, because it _is_ nothing. But the way Liam’s looking at him makes him feel like it’s everything, like he’s finally proving that he can do this, that he can be reliable like Niall. 

* 

The next morning the three of them take the girls out to the park. Kit’s in a much better mood now, laughing and running around after Niall while Liam pushes Daisy in her pushchair. Harry’s so absorbed in how good it feels to be out with this little family he can call his own that he doesn’t notice people off to the side taking pictures. Once they’re back at home later that afternoon, Niall erupts in laughter after checking his phone, saying, “You won’t believe what Zayn just sent me.” 

Niall sticks his phone in front of Liam and Harry’s faces, showing off a picture of Niall and Kit running through the park, with Harry looking on smiling while Liam lifts Daisy out of her pushchair. The caption underneath reads: _More than three months later and no album in sight, but Harry Styles is still playing house with radio host, Niall Horan, and producer, Liam Payne, and his two kids._

Harry’s stomach drops when he reads it and he looks up at Liam remorsefully. “Liam, I’m so sorry. Someone must have called them that we were at the park today. I can get Jude to try and get the articles taken down.” 

He’s rambling and his face feels hot and his throat is dry, but Liam’s face just curls up in a smile, laughing breathily, waving his hand dismissively. “Harry, don’t worry about it! It’s fine. Can’t live with a pop star and expect to never be in the papers.” 

Niall takes his phone back from Harry, looking at him curiously. “Mate, I’ve never seen you so serious before. You’re turning into a proper dad over here.” 

Harry’s heart flips and swells. He smiles bashfully. “Shut up, Niall!” 

Liam’s looking between the two of them happily, wrapping his arms around them both. “You’re both turning into proper parental figures. Would’ve never guessed the two of you would be so helpful.” 

Niall and Harry both skirt out from under his grip, looking at him offended, saying at the same time, “Hey! That’s not fair!” and “Don’t be like that! I’ve always been helpful!” 

Liam’s eyes crinkle up in laughter, sinking down onto the sofa, looking up at the two of them with so much happiness that Harry knows he’s just teasing. 

Niall sits down beside him, wraps an arm around his shoulder, tucking up against his side, and Harry’s heart skips a beat at the way Liam melts into the touch, wanting nothing more than to be where Niall is. 

Liam looks at him, eyes flickering over Harry’s features and down his body, and Harry feels like he’s on fire, like Liam’s about to devour him and Harry can’t look away, can’t make himself sit down or move to another room. Niall shifts closer to Liam, removing his arm from around Liam’s shoulder so that he can cuddle closer, and Harry just stands there stupidly while Liam runs his hand through Niall’s hair, watching Harry intensely. 

Niall sighs at the touch, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Liam’s shoulder. Liam licks his lips and a heat pools in Harry’s stomach in a way it’s never done while looking at Liam; any confusion Harry had on what his feelings for Liam were before are suddenly quite clear. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, saving him from doing something rash, and he finally tears his eyes off Liam’s face, digging his phone out of his pocket to read a new text from Gemma: _Dinner tomorrow?_

He closes his eyes, relieved that it wasn’t Jude, and shoots back, _love to_. Then he looks back to Liam, who’s watching him carefully, Niall dozing off at his side. Harry clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward in his own skin. “Should’ve put Niall down for a nap with the girls.” 

Niall curls further into Liam’s side, sighing against his neck. “Fuck off, I’m just resting my eyes.” 

Liam’s chest shakes lightly in laughter and Harry feels at ease for a moment, but then Liam looks at him again, smiling that smile he gets sometimes when he’s unsure of something, and Harry’s heart feels wonky, too small and too large all at once, and he just wants to retreat into his own skin, not knowing why Liam’s looking at him like that. 

Niall opens his eyes and situates himself away from Liam’s side, yawning into his hand, and Harry thinks Liam’s face falls ever so slightly and he wants to scream, wants to get out of his head for five minutes and just look at this all differently, try and figure out what the fuck is going on because he just doesn’t understand anything that’s happening around him. 

He clears his throat, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I’m gonna go have a nap. Call Jude and give her an album update, tweet some fans. You know, usual pop star stuff.” 

He knows he doesn’t sound like himself, but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself at the moment. Niall and Liam both look at him curiously, Liam’s mouth twisting in concern, but Harry just hurries off, turning for the stairs before they can say anything. 

He locks himself in his room the rest of the day, busying himself with trying to work through which songs he wants to lay vocals down on first and texting Jude about how things are coming along, working in a snide comment about keeping the girls out of the papers that just earns him an apology fit to make anyone guilty for being rude. He goes down for dinner very briefly, kissing the girls on the tops of their heads and smiling at Niall and Liam, just to leave quickly with a sandwich and a banana, and return to his room for the night. 

He knows it’s rude to ignore them, but his head is spinning from the way Liam was looking at him and the fact that it’s undeniable at this point that no matter what they are, he’s got some sort of feelings for Liam. He falls asleep easily, tuckered out from a day of thinking too much. 

The easiness does not transfer to his sleep, though. He wakes up a quarter-past one, uneasy and squeamish, having dreamt that Niall was tipping off the paparazzi to take pictures of them and the kids in order to sabotage Harry in an attempt to get Liam to kick Harry out of the house for endangering his kids. He shakes his head, willing his stomach to subside, telling himself that Liam didn’t care — that he was fine with their pictures being in the articles — and that Niall would never do something like that. 

He goes down the hall to Niall’s bedroom, finally taking Liam up on his advice to use Niall for a cuddle after a nightmare. He knocks on Niall’s door quietly, entering a moment later, calling out softly, “Niall. Can I come in for a cuddle? Can’t sleep.” 

Niall doesn’t answer, so Harry goes over to his bed to wake him up, but he’s surprised to find that he’s not there. Niall usually tucks in by now, likes to wake up early to watch Kit’s early morning cartoons with her. 

Harry heads downstairs, hoping he’s on the sofa or in the kitchen so he can talk to him — Niall’s always really good at easing his mind — but the lights are off except for the one coming from the door of Liam’s bedroom, and Harry thinks maybe he should just go straight to Liam, ask him for a cuddle. The door’s halfway open — Harry doesn’t even have to open it to see inside. He thinks Liam’s probably still up, doesn’t think he’d mind if Harry bothered him for a chat. 

When Harry gets closer he stops dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him. Liam’s fast asleep with Niall curled up next to him, arm slung tight around his torso, head resting at the juncture of his neck. The duvet falls haphazardly around their waists and Harry can’t tell if they’re completely naked or not, but he doesn’t want to find out.

He backs away slowly before he can wake the two of them up, not wanting to make this into something it’s not — not wanting to bring attention to this at all, actually. He goes back to his room, studies his phone for a long time before sending Gemma a text: _Drinks tomorrow, too?  
I think I’m having a crisis._

He scrolls through Twitter on his phone, responding to random fans and checking his mentions, seeing tweet after tweet of those same pictures from earlier. Harry wants to scream, wants to throw his phone out the window and go home, go back to his own house where he’s alone — no crying babies or fussy toddlers or two men he doesn’t know what’s going on between, not knowing what to make of his feelings for Liam and where this thing with Niall leaves them. He’s thought, maybe, he and Liam were on the same page, but it appears now that they aren’t at all, and he feels a little unhinged, no clue what to do or how to act. 

He goes to sleep unnerved and wakes up just the same. He spends the whole morning in his bedroom sulking, has a shower after Niall’s gone for work, not knowing how to face him after seeing just how perfectly he fits at Liam’s side. Then he heads downstairs for a snack to hold him over till dinner, hoping Liam will be out with the kids. Liam greets him in the kitchen, and Harry tries to keep his cool, tries not to blurt out what he saw last night, not wanting to make Liam feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, especially since Harry doesn’t know what happened. 

Liam asks him about what his plans are for the day and if he wants to come by the studio to start recording or if he still needs time to write some more, and Harry doesn’t know how to tell him that he can’t be in the same room with him for that long, can’t look at him without his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots. He ends up telling Liam that he needs some time away from working for a bit to get his head in order, that he likes to take a breather in between writing and recording to really let the songs sink in before working on anything, and that he’d let him know when he’s ready. He tells him that he’s going out with Gemma for dinner and that he’ll probably be back late, not to wait up. 

Liam looks at him like he senses something’s off, but doesn’t say anything as Harry heads back upstairs to bide his time until he has to leave. 

He makes the mistake of tuning into the end of Niall’s radio show on his way to the restaurant to meet Gemma and hears Niall telling the story about last night. Niall’s voice is curling up in laughter, saying into the microphone to the caller, “Yeah, I completely understand that feeling. Last night I fell asleep in my best friend’s bed watching tv, and woke up this morning drooling on his chest. It was a disaster.” 

The caller laughs in delight, saying something about how that makes her story sound so much more bearable, but Harry’s not really paying attention, too caught up in the almost palpable fondness in Niall’s voice when he talks about Liam; it makes Harry feel like he’s burning up from the inside out. He turns the radio off before he can hear anything else, but it still leaves him with a foul taste in his mouth and an uneasy thought that he’s not the only one who has feelings for Liam. 

* 

At dinner he has one too many drinks and the words come easy. When Gemma asks about how everything’s going and if he’s still having a crisis, Harry tells her, “Not good, Gems. Not good at all.” His voice is slower than usual, feeling loose and unfocused with the few drinks he’s had; it finally gives him the nerve to say, “I think I’m in love.” 

Gemma blinks rapidly, looking at him softly. “Oh, really? Who’s the lucky person?” 

Harry’s chest constricts — he hasn’t admitted it to anyone, not even himself, really. His tongue feels five times too big for his mouth and when he finally says it, it doesn’t feel like it’s real at all, “Liam. I think I’m in love with Liam.”

Gemma’s look changes; where it was once soft and inquisitive, it’s now sad and sympathetic. She reaches out and places her hand over Harry’s, squeezing gently. “Oh, Harry.” 

Harry doesn’t want her sympathy, doesn’t feel like he deserves it, really, just shakes out of her grip, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t even know how this happened! Liam tells me one night that he met Addie at that bar because he and Niall had been there to see me — to see if I was fit — and then I just. I just couldn't stop thinking about him. And now he’s been helping me write for my album, which I should have known better than, and he’s just so lovely and he’s so helpful and he’s so good with the kids and my heart hurts, Gemma. It hurts because I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to act and I’m pretty sure Niall’s in love with him, too. I’m so tired, being in love is exhausting.”

Gemma’s lips are quirking up in a smile. Harry can’t help but smile back at her. After all that rambling, he feels at ease, more settled about getting things off his chest. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. I’m having my very first romantic crisis.” 

Gemma’s eyes narrow shrewdly. “What about that time you were sixteen and you swore you were in love with two girls?” 

“That was different!” 

Gemma shakes her head softly, looking at Harry like he just doesn’t get it. “How so?” 

“Because they both liked me! And they weren’t opposed to sharing!” 

Gemma smiles, like she’s proud he finally caught on, and Harry’s eyes narrow in question. He asks slowly, “Are you suggesting I share Liam with Niall?”

“Dunno, really. You don’t even know if Niall loves him. Or if Liam has feelings for either of you! Seems like you have a lot of talking to do.” 

Harry rests his head in his hands, elbows on the table supporting the weight, looking at Gemma like a petulant child. “But I don’t _want_ to.”

Gemma just clucks her tongue reproachfully. “Tough luck.” 

* 

June ends before Harry talks to anyone about anything. He channels his frustrations into his music. He stops writing with Liam and instead spends the “break” he told Liam he likes to take before recording writing songs on his own. He avoids Niall and Liam as much as he can for two weeks straight, taking the kids out with Lou and Lux for playdates, making unnecessary trips home to see his mum. When it’s unavoidable, Liam watches him carefully, eyes searching for something, and Harry can tell that he’s upset and confused, but Harry’s need for self-preservation wins out and he continues to avoid all confrontation that could come with admitting his feelings. 

He can only avoid them for so long, though. July starts and Niall confronts him at the edge of the stairs one afternoon before lunch. 

“What the fuck is your problem lately?” His voice is icy cold, hushed so that the kids won’t hear. 

Heat rises in Harry’s cheeks and even with his height advantage, standing a step up, he feels tiny standing there in front of Niall, like a child being scolded. “Nothing. Just been getting my head cleared before we start recording.” 

“Riiight. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me and Liam. Clearing your head, alright.” His voice is clipped and his eyes are sharp and skeptical. 

Harry really hates making Niall look anything other than cheery. He picks at the grain of the wood of the banister, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, yeah. Just been caught up in my own head lately.”

The corner of Niall’s mouth turns up in a sympathetic smile, eyes softening, and he says seriously, “You can’t keep retreating in on yourself when something’s upsetting you. You can’t keep running away — not now that you’ve got Daisy and Kit in your life.” 

Harry’s shoulders go tense at the implication, feeling defensive. “Hey, I’ve been really good with them! I’ve not ignored them at all!” 

“I know, but Kit’s pretty perceptive for her age, and she’s gonna start to worry if you keep ignoring Liam.”

Harry can’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous Niall’s being, he doesn’t even sound like he believes himself. “That’s a low blow — using Kit against me.” 

Niall’s face lights up, mouth turning up a bit smugly, quirking an eyebrow at Harry. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

Harry pushes past him, calling out, “Kit, I don’t know why Niall’s your favourite. He’s a monster.” 

She looks over at him from where she’s set up at the coffee table with her toys, appalled. “Harry! Mean!” 

* 

Niall takes him aside in the kitchen as they’re preparing the girls’ lunch and says, “Seriously, Harry, if something’s wrong just talk to me about it. Or at the very least talk to Liam. He’s worried about you.” 

Harry closes his eyes briefly. He doesn’t want to make Liam worry and he hates that there’s this rift between the three of them, but he doesn’t know how he could possibly talk to either of them about this — not after seeing the two of them curled up in bed together or the way Liam always looks so relaxed with Niall, always completely comfortable. 

Harry opens his eyes to find Niall looking at him in amusement, teasing as he says, “You know you do a weird thing with your face when you think.” 

Harry pushes at Niall’s shoulder gently, feeling more at ease at the slight return to normalcy, realising suddenly that he’s really missed hanging out with Niall, blurting out, “I’ve missed you.” 

Niall’s face scrunches up in amusement, laughing fondly. “Been right here — just have to talk to me.” 

*

An hour after Niall leaves for work, Harry’s sat on the sofa playing peek-a-boo with Daisy while Kit plays with her toys when Liam comes through the door looking happy to see him. “Long time no see, mate.” 

Harry kisses Daisy’s forehead, saying, “Don’t listen to Daddy, he’s a chronic exaggerator.” 

Kit chimes in from the floor, “Yeah, Daddy you saw him this morning!” 

Liam smiles fondly at the three of them, raising an eyebrow at Harry. “Using my kids to gang up on me. See how long you stay my favourite.” 

Harry knows he’s teasing, but there’s a hint of sincerity in Liam’s tone when he says it that has Harry’s heart soaring — he forgot just how much Liam makes him feel like a schoolboy with a crush. “Oh, I’m your favourite, now? 

Liam shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, when you’re not avoiding me.”

He watches as Liam heads to the kitchen, feeling like he should follow. He puts Daisy down on the mat by the fireplace, saying, “Don’t go crawling everywhere, Daisy Chain.” 

Turning to Kit next, he says, “Don’t help your sister up to any high places she can’t get down from this time.” 

Kit looks up at him innocently, promising, “I won’t, Harry.” 

He hurries off to the kitchen after Liam, nearly running into him at the fridge, saying a bit breathlessly, “Hey, I haven’t been avoiding you.” 

Liam looks at him in disbelief, mouth set in a thin line, and Liam’s obviously been a parent for far too long, he’s really mastered making people feel bad for lying with just one look. 

Harry shakes his head, trying to figure his way out of this situation. “Okay. Maybe I’ve been avoiding you a bit.” 

Liam doesn’t press him about it, but he’s standing there so quietly, looking overwhelmingly dejected that Harry’s compelled to make that look go away, so Harry lies. “I’ve been working on some new material and I’ve been nervous to share it with anyone, even you, and I thought if I avoided you I could avoid getting back into the studio to record…” 

He trails off not really sure what else to say, it’s not technically a lie. He _has_ been nervous to get back in the studio and start laying down tracks, but if he’s honest with himself — that has nothing to do with why he’s been avoiding Niall and Liam for the last two weeks. 

Liam looks at Harry skeptically. He obviously doesn’t believe him and Harry can’t really blame Liam. He’s never been the best at lying to the ones he cares about, and he knows Liam can see right through him, but he doesn’t say anything, just bites his lip nervously. Harry thinks Liam might want to tell him something, but before he gets a chance to ask what’s up Daisy starts crying from the other room. 

Harry and Liam both rush to the living room to find Kit hiding under the coffee table while Daisy cries from the ledge of the fireplace. “Kiiiiit,” Harry says, “what did I say about helping your sister up to places she can’t get down from?” 

Kit looks at Harry from where she’s crouched under the coffee table with a silly grin on her face. “You said no high spaces!” 

Liam steps in, Daisy safely in his arms now, saying, “Kit. You know the fireplace is a high space for a baby,” between rubbing soft, soothing circles at Daisy’s back to calm her down. 

Kit pouts up at them. “She was trying to get up there! I was helping her!” 

Harry looks down at her with a hand on his hip, disappointed. “Kit, you promised.” 

She looks sad now, voice awfully pathetic sounding. “Sorry, Harry.” She gets up and tugs on Liam’s trouser leg. Liam realises what she wants a moment later, lowering Daisy down so Kit can take Daisy’s cheeks between her little hands and kiss her on the forehead. “Sorry, Daisy.” 

They set Kit back up on the foor with her toys and Harry makes to go upstairs to call his mum, but Liam calls out hesitantly for him, “Hey, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

Liam’s chewing at his lip, bouncing Daisy on his knee, saying softly, “Nothing, nevermind. Just think you’re getting good at the parenting thing.” 

Harry’s heart swells at the compliment, but Liam looks like he’s holding something back, avoiding eye contact with Harry and Harry doesn’t believe that’s all he had to say. Harry remembers Liam looking like he had something to say back in the kitchen, but Liam had given him a reprieve then, so it’s only fair that Harry gives him the same courtesy.

It’s all Harry can think about the rest of the day, though. By the time he’s tucked in for bed, he’s got himself so worked up about what Liam could have possibly wanted to say to him that he can’t get to sleep at all. 

He decides to take Niall up on his offer to talk, gets out of bed and heads down the hall to Niall’s room, hoping that this time he won’t walk in on an empty room or worse — Niall cuddling up with Liam again. He knocks and Niall calls for him to come in. 

Harry loses all his nerve after seeing Niall lying in bed ready for sleep. He kicks at the carpet nervously. “Nevermind. It was nothing important.” 

Niall scrunches up his face in concern, sitting up a bit. “Hey c’mere, it doesn’t sound like nothing.” He lifts the duvet up to make room for Harry, and Harry goes because he really does need to talk about this to someone that can potentially clear it all up. He feels like he might explode if he doesn’t. 

Niall eyes him cautiously as he slinks forward slowly, shoulders tense. “You look a mess, Harry. What’s this about?”

Harry lies there next to Niall, arms folded loosely over his face for what feels like ages before Niall gets annoyed, moving Harry’s arms away and looking down at him, his voice unnervingly calm as he says, “Harry. This is about Liam, isn’t it?”

Harry frowns, not knowing how Niall can possibly sound so calm talking about Liam when every time he’s brought up, Harry’s heart feels like it’s going to come undone. He looks anywhere but Niall’s face, not wanting to see his reaction. “Maybe. How’d you know? Am I that obvious?”

Harry looks up at him nervously after a moment and is surprised to see Niall still so calm. He just shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head to the side, smiling. “Maybe a bit. Dinner might’ve given you away when you looked like you were about to wet yourself after Liam told you to let him know when you were ready to get back in the studio.” 

“Maybe I just don’t wanna start singing yet!” 

Niall runs his fingers through the bits of Harry’s hair that have started to fall in front of his eyes, saying softly, “Nah, don’t think so. Now, are you gonna tell me what this is about or did you just come here for a cuddle?”

Niall opens his arms up just in case that’s all Harry is there for, and Harry’s overwhelmed by how kind and understanding Niall’s being. Harry has so many things he wants to say, wants to ask, but he just can’t bring himself to find out — doesn’t think he could handle finding out if Niall loves Liam, too. He curls in closer to Niall, letting him wrap his arm around his shoulders snuggly, saying softly against his collar, “Just a cuddle.” 

They lie there like that — Harry breathing softly at Niall’s neck, Niall carding his fingers through Harry’s hair — until Harry’s drowsy and calm enough to admit it, his words tumbling out before he can stop them or think better of it. “I’m in love with Liam.” 

Niall breathes in sharply, hand stilling in Harry’s hair and he’s afraid to look at him, thinking this is the moment he finds out the truth about Niall’s feelings, until he feels Niall sigh underneath him, whispering quite similarly to how Gemma did, “Oh, _oh, Harry_.”

He sounds concerned and Harry looks up to see Niall’s face coloured in sympathy, and Harry asks what he’s been afraid to ask for so long, “You’re not mad are you?” 

Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why would I be mad?” 

Harry flops back down against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling, searching for some sort of guidance. He rubs at his face frantically. “Because you love him, too.” 

Niall shakes with laughter and it’s not the response Harry expected, or even considered to be possible, and it sets him even further on edge. 

“Course I do. Zayn always says I’m half in love with everybody I know. But I’m not like, _in love_ with him. Liam and I are just friends. Best mates.” 

Harry looks over at him quickly, head spinning with this news, heart swelling in hope. But he still doesn’t understand anything from the last few months if that’s true. “What d’ya mean? You’re always kissing him, and I walked in on you two sleeping together two weeks ago!” 

Niall’s smiling at him, really smiling at him, and it does nothing to ease Harry’s mind, he just feels more desperate. Niall sits up fully, looking down at Harry flabbergasted, and says slowly, “Have you spent the last four months thinking I’m in love with Liam?” 

The way Niall asks makes Harry embarrassed he ever thought it. His cheeks flush, still not understanding anything at all that’s happened since he moved in. “No! Not all four,” he says defensively. He covers his face and says quietly into the crook of his elbow, “Only like two — since you got all weird when you asked me if I fancied him!” 

Niall pulls Harry’s hands away from his face again, rougher this time, saying seriously, “That’s because Liam’s wife — _your best friend_ — just died and I was worried you might be getting ahead of yourself. He might not be ready, Harry.” 

Harry feels cold all over, heart clenching at the fact that he’s been so caught up in thinking that Niall was in love with Liam that he never properly considered Liam’s reaction to all this. “Yeah, I know. I know!” He rubs at his face just for something to do, asking, “Do you think —” He stops. 

He knows Niall would know more than anyone if Harry had a chance at all, if it were possible for Liam to one day care about Harry the way Harry cares for Liam, but he can’t bring himself to voice his question. Changing the subject, going for casual, he says, “Don’t think it really matters. Pretty sure if he was ready, he’d be in love with you.” 

Niall rolls his eyes at Harry like he’s dealing with a five year old, sighing. “I think if you pulled your head out of your arse for five minutes you’d see that’s clearly not the case.” 

Harry pouts at him. He hates when Niall gets tough with him and wants him to return to sympathetic immediately. “Don’t be mean, how was I supposed to know when you go around kissing him and sleeping with him!” 

“Harry, I have kissed Liam since I met you. I kissed him at his and Addie’s wedding for God’s sake. That’s just our thing.” 

Harry doesn’t stop pouting, so Niall goes on, looking amused, “And are you not currently in my bed? In just your pants ready to go to sleep? The last time I checked you weren’t in love with me. Why would you think it’s any different between me and Liam?”

Harry laughs pathetically into his hands, feeling entirely ridiculous for his behavior over the last two weeks and the way he’s misread so many things since he moved in. “You really don’t think he’s in love with you?” 

“No,” he says firmly, pausing for a beat before looking at Harry softly and saying, “And I think if you just _talked_ to him you’d see that.” 

Harry rolls his head side to side, pouting once again. “You sound just like Gemma.” He laughs, thinking back to his conversation with her from two weeks ago. “Except she suggested I share Liam with you, if you were in love with him.” 

Niall laughs loudly with his whole body and it vibrates through Harry, making him feel calmer than he has in so long. He thinks Niall’s right. Liam’s probably _not_ ready for something, but knowing Niall doesn’t love Liam and that he thinks he’s being ridiculous makes Harry feel easier — makes his stomach unknot and his body lighter; he feels a lot better after talking it out. 

Niall sobers up, saying, “I’ll keep that in mind for if I ever fall in love with Liam.” 

They stay there for a long time, Harry lying back on his pillow, settling in for sleep and then Niall grabs his hand, squeezing it softly, yawning when he says, “Feel better, now?” 

Harry does — he knows there’s no guarantee that things will work out with him and Liam or even if Liam has feeling for him at all, but there’s a bit of hope swelling in the pit of his stomach that he just can’t stamp out and that’s really all that he needs. He falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Niall’s breathing beside him and wakes up to Liam knocking at the door, saying, “C’mon Nialler. Made eggs. Need your help getting the girls down.”

Niall groans beside him, covering his eyes with his arm, “You go play house with your loverboy. I’m gonna lie in a bit longer.”

Harry pushes at Niall’s shoulder gently. “Is this how you’re going to be from now on?”

Niall moves his arm to the side, smiling at him playfully. “No, not at all. Just for this morning because I still can’t believe you thought I was in love with Liam. 

Harry gets up from the bed, making sure to throw the duvet over Niall’s face, muttering as he goes, “It’s not _that_ farfetched.” 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that!” 

Harry opens the door to see Liam across the hall knocking at Harry’s door and Harry suddenly feels very nervous standing there in his pants. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants as he walks over to Liam, saying quietly, “Hey, Li. Right here.”

Liam stops knocking, shoulders going briefly tense, before he turns to Harry, saying pinched, “Oh, hi Harry.” He sounds crestfallen, scratching at the back of his neck. “Did you have another nightmare last night?” 

Harry wants to just come out with it, tell him he was baring his soul to Niall about his stupid mixed-up feelings for Liam, but he knows that’s not fair — knows he wouldn’t want to know if he wasn’t ready for something new, so he doesn’t. “No, not as such.” 

Liam’s face flickers through so many emotions before it finally lands on understanding. “Oh, I didn’t know you two were —” 

Harry doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he’s honestly so surprised by Liam’s assumption that he cuts him off: “I’m not sleeping with him, Liam!”

Liam perks up, laughing almost as if he was relieved, and Harry presses forward, mouth curling up teasingly. “Would it bother you if we were?”

Liam’s features tense up for a second before softening and his voice is the tiniest bit uneven when he says, “No! Not at all.” He blinks slowly and Harry’s reminded of how Addie used to do that before she told a lie, wonders if maybe Liam picked up the same habit. “I’d be happy for you, if you were. Happy for Niall.” 

Liam’s voice is strained and Harry knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t press him any further about it. Harry feels so happy and refreshed from his talk with Niall that something comes over him and he crowds into Liam’s space, giving him his most winning smile; Liam’s breath hitches, cheeks flushing the softest shade of pink when Harry says, “But we’re not. So you don’t have to be happy for anyone.” 

He pushes past Liam to open his door to get dressed, and he swears Liam shivers as he brushes his arm against Liam’s. 

Harry’s heart beats more quickly at the thought of Niall being right — the idea of Liam’s breath hitching and cheeks flushing when Harry got too close being an indicator that maybe Liam feels _something_ for Harry more than just friendship, after all. 

* 

That feeling is only intensified once they get inside the studio at the end of the week. Harry lays down track after track while Liam and Louis look on, giving advice and feedback. Harry’s never felt as motivated to do it right — to make this the best album he’s had vocally — as he does when Liam’s staring back at him from the other side of the booth, mouth turned up in a small smile while he listens to Harry sing. 

After their first week of recording ends, Liam takes Harry aside, touching his hip softly with his hand and Harry feels anchored in place, like there’s no way he can move with the intensity of Liam looking at him or the heat that’s radiating from the palm of Liam’s hand on Harry’s hip. Liam says excitedly, voice laced with sincerity, “Your vocals are amazing right now, mate.” 

Liam moves his hand, but before Harry can be disappointed by the loss of contact, Liam’s raising it to play with the bits of hair falling over Harry’s ears, looking at him fondly. “ _You’re_ amazing, Haz.”

The moment is charged and Harry thinks this might be it, this might be the moment all the feelings he’s been harbouring for Liam bubble over and spill out. But then Louis calls Liam to the other room, saving Harry the embarrassment or the heartache, and Harry’s left with the feeling that had he come out with it Liam wouldn’t have minded — might have actually been receptive to him. 

The high he gets from that notion is short-lived, though. Two and a half weeks into recording, Harry wakes up midday to find Niall on the sofa with Kit curled up next to him, head rested on his thigh, looking a bit green and poorly. Liam’s next to her with Daisy, and Harry’s heart drops at how much of a family the four of them look in that moment. 

“What’s up with Kit? Is she feeling alright?” He asks nervously, hoping she’s okay. 

Niall answers for Liam, “Oh, she’s fine. She gave us a scare this morning, though. Threw up all over her duvet when Liam was trying to help her pick out what to wear.” 

Harry feels a surge of discomfort at the fact that no one woke him. “Why didn’t you wake me? I would have helped.” 

Liam finally looks away from where he’s entertaining Daisy, turning towards Harry, his eyes crinkling up at the way Daisy squeezes his fingers between her hands when he looks away from her, saying, “There was no need to wake you up. Figured Niall would be enough.” 

Maybe Harry’s face falls uncontrollably or maybe Liam just knows him well enough to know the effect those words would have on him because Liam says quickly, “Besides I wanted to let you sleep in! I thought you deserved it after how hard you’ve been working at the studio.” 

He’s so sincere in his words and the way he’s looking at Harry, but it does little to put his mind at ease. Harry still can’t help but feel like even if Niall doesn’t love Liam and no matter how much he swears Liam doesn’t have feelings for him, it will never matter because there’s no way Harry could ever fill Niall’s shoes. Not when Niall’s the one Liam goes to first for everything, not when Niall’s his best mate, the one that he trusts absolutely, and especially not when Harry ran away for three months and consistently retreats in on himself if things go wrong. 

*

He tries his best not to retreat in on himself this time. Niall’s words from before resonate with him, and he tries to shake the idea that he’s just the third-wheel in this tight knit family that Niall and Liam have created by throwing himself head first into the parenting role. He wakes up early to get the girls dressed; he starts cooking breakfast before Niall and Liam even get a chance to wake up; he finally starts to feel like he belongs here — like he’s just as important to Liam to keep the house up and running as Niall is. 

But Harry’s sense of worth within the home is abated as soon as Daisy starts teething again. It’s a week into August and Daisy’s been crying nearly non-stop since the beginning of the month. Harry hasn’t slept much because of it. He’s got seven text messages and four voicemails from Jude about announcing an album release that Harry’s been too tired to reply to. 

He’s lying down with his eyes shut, ticking off all the things Liam asked him to do while he and Niall went food shopping. Daisy starts crying from the other room and Harry groans; his body’s tired and it takes everything in him to get himself out of bed to go check on her. 

Once he gets to her nursery, his heart starts racing. She’s standing at the edge of her crib with her little hands gripped tight around the railing. Her cheeks are flushed and Harry feels her forehead with the back of his hand; she feels really warm. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes, breathing heavily through her sobs, touching at her mouth, saying, “Owie.”

He picks her up and hugs her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head, murmuring sympathetically, “Oh sweetie, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you all patched up.”

He tries to keep his voice calm to keep her at ease, taking her down stairs to get one of her teething rings. She calms down a bit once she gets it, but she still feels warm and he doesn’t know what to do in this situation at all. He sets her in her high-chair and gets his phone out to call Liam. 

Liam picks up with a laugh but it’s stopped short when he hears the panic in Harry’s voice. "Harry, slow down, what’s wrong?" 

"Liam! It’s Daisy! She’s like, she was crying a lot — like usual because she’s teething again — but her face is really flushed and she’s burning up and I don’t — I don’t know what to do?” His voice is strained and he knows he sounds pathetic, knows he’s making all his hard work at proving he can be just as responsible and reliable as Niall look like nothing in this one moment, but he’s tired and he’s got a warm baby on his hands and he just feels panicked. 

Liam’s voice is calm and soothing on the other end. "Hazza, calm down. It’s okay, this happened the last time she had teeth growing in. Addie took her to the doctor and they told her as long as it wasn’t over, like, 38 that it was okay."

Harry’s panic is slightly abated by Liam’s words, but then Daisy chucks the teething ring on the floor and starts crying again. Harry feels hysteric once again. "Well, what if it’s over 38? God, you and Niall just left and everything’s already fallen apart. Please tell me you’re almost home." 

His eyes are watering and he feels a little dizzy, like Daisy’s fever has transferred to him and made him a bit woozy. He just wants to lie down and have a nap, maybe a cuddle. The front door opens, and then he hears Liam say into his ear and from the hallway at the same time, “I’m here, just got home.” 

Harry doesn’t even realise how tense his body is until his shoulders relax at Liam’s words. He hears Niall laughing in the hallway and Liam murmuring, “Don’t be mean. He didn’t know!” 

The two of them join Harry in the kitchen and Niall’s stifling a laugh in his hand while Liam grabs Daisy, kissing her on the forehead, whispering, “You’re not even that warm, little bean.” 

Turning to Harry with soft, kind eyes, Liam says, “Hey, it’s alright. She’s going to be alright.” 

Harry knows his lack of sleep is getting to him, but all he can think about is how he should move out, how he’s eventually just going to ruin everything that Liam has left and for once he tells Liam exactly what he feels. “I think I should move out. I don’t —” He runs his hand over his face and knows he’s coming a bit unhinged. 

Niall stops laughing and looks at him a bit concerned. “Harry, what are you on about? Why would you move out?” 

"I just — I’m not very fit for this am I? I can’t even handle being alone with the kids for half an hour by myself. What use am I to either of you? I’m pretty sure Kit’s probably awake by now with how much noise Daisy’s been making and I haven’t even checked on her yet!" 

Niall laughs again, but this time he’s looking at Harry sympathetically, almost sadly; he motions for Liam to take care of Harry, grabs Daisy from Liam’s arms, muttering to her, “Let’s go see if Kit’s doing better than big ol’ Harry is. Seems like you’ve given him quite a scare.”

He turns back to Harry momentarily before leaving the kitchen, smiling widely like he knows something Harry doesn’t. 

Liam walks towards Harry, reaching his hand out and touching gently at Harry’s hip, saying softly, “Hey, what’s up? Why are you being so hard on yourself right now? You’ve been so good with the kids since you got here, and you’ve been especially great with them the last few weeks.” 

He’s wrinkling his brow up in confusion, like he’s trying desperately to understand what’s gotten into Harry, and Harry feels the knots in his stomach tighten. He never knows how to deal with Liam looking at him with such intensity, and he knows it’s just because he’s tired, but he feels so alarmingly useless. He’s compelled to tell the truth about it, wants to let Liam know why he’s acting this way, sighing in defeat, "I just don’t know why you want me here. You and Niall have everything —"

The rest of Harry’s sentence is left at the back of his throat because of what happens next. Liam closes the gap between them, placing his hand loosely at the back of Harry’s neck, rubbing his thumb gently over the soft skin under Harry’s ear. His eyes flick to Harry’s mouth and then to Harry’s eyes, and Harry’s heart starts racing at the prospect of this finally happening. He closes his eyes and then Liam’s lips are on his; it’s rough and a bit off-kilter, but Harry sighs into it anyway. 

The kiss is far shorter than Harry wants it to be. Liam pulls back too soon, smiling back at Harry. “Will you shut up now? I _want_ you here. That’s all that matters.”

Liam’s hand is still at the back of his neck — it’s creeping up into Harry’s hair, toying gently with the curls at the base of his neck, and Harry’s heart beats faster, bursting with so many emotions, not knowing where to begin at all. He wants to say so many things, but his head’s spinning with the way Liam’s scraping his blunt nails over his skin, sending shivers up and down Harry’s spine. 

Harry closes his eyes, breathing in slowly to try and gain some sort of composure over himself, but then Liam places his free hand at Harry’s hip, pressing his thumb firmly into the waistband of his jeans and a heat pools in Harry’s stomach — he feels desperate. “Liam,” he says, looking at him in what Harry hopes is a steady manner, voice as calm as he can manage. “What are you doing?”

Liam licks his lips, eyes darting all over Harry’s face, as if he’s trying to memorise the look on his face in this moment, before landing on his lips, mouth turning up in a small smile as he looks at Harry. “I’m doing whatever you want me to do.” 

Harry might float away with the effect those words have on him. He closes the gap between their mouths, pressing their lips together in another kiss. This time it’s slower, gentler, mouths slotted together perfectly. Liam makes a soft sound at the back of his throat and tightens his grip in Harry’s hair and all Harry wants to do is make it happen again, wants to discover every sound Liam makes, every reaction he has to the things Harry does to him. Harry pulls away from Liam’s mouth, and Liam makes a strangled, disappointed sigh until Harry starts kissing at his jaw, reaching up and tugging at the back of Liam’s neck, tilting his head back so that Harry has more access to kiss at the soft skin of Liam’s neck. 

Harry mutters into his skin, emphasising each of his words with a kiss, “I want this. I want you. Want whatever you’re ready for.” 

Liam pulls away from Harry and there’s a fire in his eyes that has Harry wondering for a second if they’re finally on the same page. Liam takes Harry’s hand and pulls him out the kitchen towards his bedroom, saying cheekily, “Can’t do what I’m ready for in the kitchen, now can I? Niall could walk in any moment.” 

Harry thinks he might be in the midst of some very vivid dream; there’s no way that after months of tiptoeing around his feelings that this could possibly be happening, that Liam could possibly be making the first move. But he is, and Harry feels giddy with it, half-hard in his jeans at the thought of what Liam could be ready for that they couldn’t do in the kitchen. 

Liam pulls him by the hand into his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him, and Harry’s stomach twists in anticipation. Liam guides him back to the bed, eyes dark and hooded, and Harry’s breath hitches at the sight of it, never having seen Liam like this before. It’s new and exhilarating; Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

The back of Harry’s knees hit the edge of the bed and Liam pushes him down until he’s sitting, looking down at Harry, disapproving, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and getting his hands at the hem of his t-shirt, muttering, “Too many clothes. Always so many clothes with you.”

Liam’s voice is teasing and he’s laughing, and Harry’s heart is a balloon about to burst — he’s so happy. He wants nothing more than to make Liam laugh always, to keep that twinkle in his eyes when he’s teasing and to make him feel the same sort of happiness Harry feels every time Liam gives him attention. Liam’s looking down at Harry, biting his lip, and Harry’s finally spurred into action, not wanting to let Liam do all the work. “You’re not much better, mate. C’mere.”

Harry gets his hands under Liam’s clothes, cataloging the hitch in Liam’s breath as Harry’s knuckles graze the skin of his hips. He strips off Liam’s hoodie and top in one go. Harry brushes his thumbs over the skin of Liam’s sides before settling at his hips and pulling him forward until his legs bracket Harry’s knees. Any dregs of tiredness still left in Harry after their kiss in the kitchen are gone now — he’s wide awake and ready to do something, anything. 

Liam’s smiling down at him smugly and Harry would be embarrassed at how obviously hard and turned-on he is, sitting beneath Liam, but he’s not at all — not when Liam’s softly touching his face, his shoulders, his chest, as if he’s astonished this is even happening and is trying to make sure he’s really there. Liam’s thumb goes over Harry’s left nipple and Harrys sucks in a breath sharply, breathing out, “Liam, _Liam_. Just do something, please. I need you to _do_ something.”

Harry’s head is buzzing, his thumbs are pressing harder into Liam’s hips, trying to keep himself grounded and in control — wanting to let Liam take the lead, let him decide what he’s ready for, and Harry realises that it’s almost as if Liam’s been waiting this whole time for Harry to ask, for him to explicitly say that this is what he needed. 

Everything moves so fast after that — Harry tries to remember the look on Liam’s face when he finally gets Harry’s pants off, cock springing forward, hard and flushed red, but the sensation of Liam’s hand around him has his vision going white around the edges and his head spinning. Harry’s sitting there stark naked, Liam’s hand on his dick while his other arm rests on his shoulder, hand firmly at the back of Harry’s neck, scratching at the base of Harry’s scalp, and Harry’s overwhelmed by the feel of it all. Liam’s thumbing at the head of Harry’s cock and Harry’s breath is ragged, but Liam still has too many clothes on. 

Liam’s leaning down, his hand on Harry’s neck pulling him forward into a kiss, and Harry’s head finally catches up with the rest of him. He moves his hands, fumbling to push Liam’s joggers and boxers slung low on his hips down, muttering against Liam’s mouth, “Still too many clothes. Not fair you get to admire me and I only get a bare chest.”

Liam laughs against Harry’s mouth and the heat in Harry’s stomach is so intense that he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out. He really does want to make Liam laugh always, especially during sex. Liam’s hands leave him momentarily, and Harry lets out a soft little whimper. 

Liam’s eyes are twinkling in mirth as he pulls back from him to say, “Always so needy. Shouldn’t have expected it to be any different like this.” 

Liam’s pushing him back further onto the bed, climbing on top of him until he’s straddling Harry’s lap, and the whine at the tip of Harry’s tongue about how he’s _definitely not needy_ gets caught in his throat, turns into a soft groan at the press of Liam’s dick against his own; he’s overwhelmed by just how much he’s wanted this.

Liam’s kissing him again, hard and rough, and Harry thinks maybe they should talk first, or at least Harry should be doing all the work — getting Liam off first. He can’t make up his mind. Liam starts kissing down his jaw, and Harry asks breathily, “Liam are you — _ah_ — sure you don’t want to —” Harry loses trace of his thoughts when Liam grinds his hips down and bites at Harry’s shoulder, mind going blank momentarily, stuttering the rest out, “T-talk about this first?”

Liam moves off of Harry’s lap, kissing down his chest, pausing briefly to swirl his tongue over each of his nipples, hands at Harry’s hips keeping him still, and says into his skin, “If you’d like, we can.” 

Then he looks up at Harry through his eyelashes and Harry’s breath stutters a bit at how beautiful he looks, mouth rosy and wet from all the kissing, and Harry doesn’t want to talk, really. He just wanted to make sure. Harry shakes his head frantically, and Liam’s hands sneaking down to cup Harry’s balls. 

Harry leans his head further back into the bed. “No, no. I just was checking what you wanted —” 

Liam’s just toying with him now, he’s biting at the soft skin of Harry’s inner thigh and Harry’s coming undone quickly, “ _Fuck, Liam._ ” His voice is strangled and wrecked, and Liam hasn’t even done anything to him, really. “I just wanted to make sure you wanted to do this.” 

Liam nips at Harry’s hip this time and Harry can feel the smiling set of Liam’s mouth against his skin. Then Liam’s sitting up, looking down at Harry quite seriously. “I think I’d like to get my mouth on your dick now. Then we can talk about how I’m a bit mad for you after.” 

_Oh,_ Harry thinks. Liam settles back between Harry’s legs, finally gets his mouth on Harry’s dick, licking softly at the tip, and Harry’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. Harry knows he should respond, knows he should say something in reply to Liam admitting he’s got feelings for Harry, but all Harry can focus on is the wet suction of Liam’s mouth around him, the way he swirls his tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in again, letting Harry’s dick hit the back of his throat. Harry can’t say anything more than a weak little, “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” 

He doesn’t last as long as he’d like, Liam’s thumbs are pressing hard into his hips — he thinks they might bruise. He reaches forward to get his hands in Liam’s hair, tugging loosely to let him know he’s about to come. Liam just becomes more fervent then, sucking hard at the head of Harry’s cock before taking him in all the way again. 

Harry’s cock hits the back of Liam’s throat and he gags a bit, but then he’s moaning around Harry when he tightens his grip in Liam’s hair, and it sends Harry over the edge. His toes curl and his body tingles, back arching with the force of his orgasm. Liam swallows him down, milking him through it. When Liam comes up, his mouth is obscenely red and swollen, glistening from spit and come. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and Harry’s heart-rate has no chance of stabilising with the way Liam’s looking at him now, like he’s everything to him in that moment. Offering to return the favour is literally the only thing Harry can do to stop the _I love you_ at the tip of his tongue from tumbling out. 

Liam comes undone even quicker than Harry. He gets his mouth on Liam, sucks hard at the tip and a stripe along the underside of Liam’s cock. He’s shivering beneath Harry’s palms on his hips, bucking up at the touch, and Harry wants to do this every night, wants to learn Liam’s ticks and what he likes and how to make him come undone in the quickest possible ways. Liam comes down the back of Harry’s throat with a stifled shout into the crook of his elbow, and Harry thinks that’s something to remember — that Liam’s loud in bed. 

He crawls back up the bed, flopping down beside Liam, feeling flushed from head to toe, heat radiating from the both of them. He looks over to Liam and smiles at the way his eyes are half-closed and he’s yawning into his hand, skin still the faintest shade of pink.

Liam’s face morphs into one of his heart melting smiles, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up. Then he asks, licking at his lips distractingly, “What?”

Harry just shakes his head softly. “Nothing. Just really — I just really,” he searches for the right words to say, not wanting to put too much on Liam’s plate just yet.

Liam laces his fingers through Harry’s, squeezing softly, his voice gentle and understanding,“I know.” He turns a little on his side and kisses Harry softly on the tip of the nose and Harry feels giddy, feels like he could accomplish anything in this moment. 

In the morning they’ll talk about this fully. They’ll talk about how this will affect the future, and Harry will finally call Jude back about setting a date for the album release, but for now Harry’s just happy to be in Liam’s bed, arm pressed against his, fingers intertwined, not having to say anything aloud because Liam gets him and already understands.


End file.
